


Of Monsters and Men

by NoYoureNotReal



Category: Inuyasha - Fandom, The Witcher
Genre: Blood, Explicit Language, Extreme Liberties Taken with Source Material, Gore, Help, I don't know what I'm doing, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexy time later probably, Violence, fantasy land, will likely be updated sporadically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:34:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22024183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoYoureNotReal/pseuds/NoYoureNotReal
Summary: Dense fog. Ghost ships. Movement at the border.Inuyasha had been a Witcher for a long time. He’d seen petty tribal squabbles, he’d seen blood shed and magic cast about so heavy that the air was thick with it. He fought creatures of all shapes and sizes that had killed humans mercilessly. He’d seen villages burn, women and children’s rotting corpses, and hopelessness spread like a plague. All this, and yet he had not seen full-on war between any two territories. But hundreds of years of relative peace was not enough to make him a fool. Whether Cintra wanted to accept it or not, war was coming. Most likely, it was already on their doorstep.
Relationships: InuKag, InuKik (past), mirsan - Relationship
Comments: 29
Kudos: 42





	1. The End's Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This story would not exist if not for my immense guilt at seeing Witchygirl99 post such consistently amazing work, especially during the 12 Days of Witchyness. I have consumed this work voraciously, but it feels so selfish to consume without creating anything at all. So here's an unasked for, Inuyasha/Witcher (Netflix) crossover. 
> 
> Also, of note, I have a job which (at times) makes it very difficult for me to write consistently, so I'll do my best to finish this, but I make no promises. I also have very little time for editing, but again, I'll do my best.
> 
> Very well. On with the fuckery.

####  Chapter 1: The End’s Beginning

Anyone could have heard them coming from miles away.

It wasn’t  _ his _ fault. He knew how to be silent, invisible, almost. His footsteps were lighter than air, his breathing almost undetectable. It was part of what made Witchers so deadly. Their mutations, though brutal, made them almost animal-like in stature and senses. Of course, for Inuyasha, the animal mutations hadn’t stopped there, but for the sake of his highly-tuned white, furry dog ears, he wished they had. The bard’s music was a cacophony of fiddle and voice, right in his ears, certainly alerting any monster within a five mile radius to their location.

“Toss a coin to your Witcher! O’ valley of—”

“For fuck’s sake,” Inuyasha said, lugging his brown sack of belongings over his shoulder, “If you don’t shut up I’ll kill you myself.”

The bard laughed and his hands stilled. He had a twinkle of mischief in his eyes that never seemed to go away, no matter how far they traveled together and how many insults were hurled at him.

“But then who would sing your praises, Inuyasha? After all, more notoriety for you, more monsters you’re hired to cut down, more coin in our pockets—”

“ _ My _ pockets.”

“I’ll only take ten percent, I swear!” Miroku said, ambling over a rock to keep up with the Witcher in front of him. They made quite the pair, Miroku in his finely-tailored jacket and trousers, and Inuyasha in his lightweight black armor and solid boots. 

“Okay, seven,” Miroku said.

Silence.

“Okay, five, but that’s my last offer.”

“Shut up,” Inuyasha said, and his body stilled. His dirt-splashed ears twitched from side to side, the rest of him frozen as stone. Miroku followed suit. 

In the time he’d been traveling with Miroku, he had been fortunate enough to come across a few lucrative schemes— there’d been a run in with some elves, a disturbing incident with a striga borne of incest, and plenty of villagers who’d bought them a pint or two— but this had barely been worth the number of monsters they had run into that they were not paid for dispatching. There had also been a disastrous incident with a bruxa that both he and Miroku agreed never to mention in public. He was starting to suspect that traveling with the bard was more a curse than a blessing. Not that that would surprise him—his life had been filled with curses.

Miroku was now blessedly silent at his side for the moment.

In the silence, he could hear many things. They were traversing a forest, so there was the rustling of spring leaves on the trees above him. Birds and the normal fauna were flying and eating and fornicating. There was a stream, too, somewhere nearby, if he had to wager, on his left, possibly near a larger body of water. He heard the shallow, scared breathing of the bard and the shifting of his fiddle onto his back. And, coming with inhuman speed, was something big barreling through the brush. Towards them.

“Miroku, hide.”

“But I can help. I’ve got my spells.”

“Keh. Like that’ll work against a kikimora.”

Kikimores were foul monsters, insectoid in form, like the unholy union of a spider, a scorpion, and a slimy, dead zombie. Although they were usually found in the swamps, there had been a recent trend towards displacement, as the humans were flooding their habitats, either with water or rock, to change the terrain so that it better suited them. He frowned. Humans. Two hundred years too many of dealing with that shit.

The kikimora spilled into view, it’s hideous black legs a tangle of claw and spine. Fresh seaweed hung from its form along with saliva and other secretions oozing out of its exoskeleton. It screeched at Inuyasha, moving back on its hindlimbs, forelimbs cycling in the air, ready to strike. He unsheathed his sword.

“Ready to eat dirt you big ugly bastard?” Inuyasha said, raising his sword in front of him. Though he could fight with a number of weapons, including his bare hands, his Tetsusaiga was by far his favorite. As he held it in front of him it transformed from an old, frail-appearing stick of metal into a sword that truly had to be seen to be believed— nearly three times the length of his body, and sharper than any blade on the Continent.

The creature roared and surged forward, front talons lunging toward him. He side-stepped, slicing as he moved, effectively severing one of the creature’s forelegs. It howled in pain and turned, faster than any beast of that size should. It hissed and lunged again, this time lower to the ground, swiping at Inuyasha’s abdomen. He leapt into the air, narrowly missing an injury, and perched himself on a tree branch. The kikimora then spun around and began to hack away at the tree, roaring, it’s putrid breath making Inuyasha want to hurl. It wasn’t the foulest thing he’d ever smelled, but it was damn near close.

After hacking away at treebark for a moment while Inuyasha surveyed the forest for Miroku (he was fine, and to his credit; instead of cowering, he was at the ready with a pitiful knife, hiding behind a nearby tree trunk) the kikimora changed tactics. Digging its claws into the wood of the tree, it started to climb, at first hesitantly, then with purpose, picking up speed towards Inuyasha.

“Shit,” he said, and he jumped to a nearby tree. The kikimora followed. While he figured he could probably do this all night, so could the kikimora, and they’d never get out of the forest at that rate. Besides, they had to get to Cintra. The Queen was welcoming her new mage, and Miroku insisted that he needed a bodyguard to attend. A paid bodyguard.

The kikimora was beginning to get frustrated, too. It backed down from the tree and disappeared into the brush. Inuyasha frowned. Was it running away? That didn’t seem likely. Maybe it was gathering friends, or perhaps he had injured it more than he thought. Or maybe it was—

His golden eyes shifted a moment too late. From behind, the kikimora leapt at him from a tree branch. Inuyasha managed to turn just in time to lift his blade up in front of his body, and the two of them went crashing to the ground below. He felt a surge of pain in his left arm and his right thigh as the kikimora’s talons pierced his skin upon impact. On instinct, he took his sword, now pressed to his body at an awkward angle, and sliced up. The kikimora divided in two, spewing black blood all over him. Its innards spattered his face, his clothes, nearly every surface, spare his closed eyes and closed mouth. Small mercies.

For a moment he lay on the forest floor, peering up at the blue sky poking through the green speckled leaves, pleasant clouds passing slow and leisurely, as if they had not a care in the world. For a moment, he envied their freedom. He wondered what life would be like to be one of those pure, fluffy, white clouds and not a black-blood-soaked, universally despised Witcher. The breeze above shifted the light filtering down, and he felt a warm spot of sun hit his face. A light in the darkness. A purpose to it all, to all of the experiments and slaughter and torment from townsfolk and monsters alike. He supposed that’s what he wanted most of all.

Instead, he got the half-disgusted, half-sheepish face of Miroku hovering over his blood-soaked, wounded body. He was grinning like an idiot.

“Well that was filthy,” he said. “And not in the good way. Can’t have you going to the banquet like this.”

Inuyasha grunted.

It was going to be a long way to Cintra.

* * *

The ride they had hitched to Cintra was blessedly free of monsters. It was not so free of mindless chatter. Inuyasha didn’t know which he preferred less.

“...which is why I had to leave the village immediately, lest their husbands find out my identity. I never knew what role the slugs played, though. Inuyasha? You hanging in there?”

He grunted. He was a fast healer— being a Witcher made certain of that— but pain was pain, and the kikimora had left deep wounds in both his abdomen and his thigh. He was still covered in the black blood, too, now dried and crusting on his skin and in his dirty, unwashed hair. The farmer that had agreed to give them a lift (for a bit of coin, of course) took one look at Inuyasha and insisted that they stay in the back of the wagon with the hay until they reached the outskirts of Cintra. Each time the wagon wheel hit a rock it jolted them, spilling hay on top of the blood. He felt like a scarecrow.

“Good. Anyway, my point is, that’s why I need you at the banquet. Too many of the men will recognize this pretty face.”

“They why go at all?” he said, voice gruff. 

“Two reasons,” Miroku said, holding up two fingers. “One, I’ve been invited to regale them with song and story, an invite which I cannot refuse, as it was made by the Queen herself. She must have heard my tale of our elven escapade.” He smiled and glanced up, as if reminiscing. Inuyasha wanted more than ever to hurl. “And two, perhaps most importantly, some tell tale of a great beauty at the palace.”

“Of course.”

“No, I know what you’re thinking! You’re asking, why put myself in that situation again?”

“I’m not, though.”

“— and it’s because this beauty can have as many suitors as she wants, as long as she marries the right one. It’s a perfect situation for me.”

Inuyasha was not sure he heard right.

“Many suitors as she wants? As in, royalty? Cintran royalty?”

“Indeed!” Miroku grinned triumphantly. “The princess of Cintra. Dark brown glossy hair, amber eyes…”

Oh, Inuyasha had heard  _ many _ tales of the princess of Cintra, but apparently, Miroku had not prior to being invited to this banquet. The real question was, should Inuyasha tell him?

Nah. Better let it play out.

“And,” Miroku continued, “If that doesn’t work out, I could try to woo the new mage, who I hear is equal in beauty, but fearsome in skill.”

Inuyasha had to admit that he had not heard anything about this new mage.

“Fearsome?”

Miroku nodded. “Unmatched in raw power. Which, considering the magic school she came from, is quite something. Aretuza is said to be brutal, where only the strongest survive. Almost as many sorceresses come out of there as Witchers from their trials,” he said, and a somber look flashed across his face. In an instant it was gone. 

He didn’t have to say anymore for Inuyasha to catch his meaning. While he did not remember much of his life prior to becoming a Witcher, he knew the statistics as well as most everyone did: only one in three made it out of the Witchers’ trial, the Trial of the Grasses, alive. He imagined that zero out of three made it out unscathed in some way. He remembered so little, but there were… sensations. Like a phantom limb; invisible but present. There was the smell of bile and burnt flesh. There were the sounds of little boys screaming, pleading, begging, please  _ no _ , take me back to my mother, that haunted him in his dreams. Every time he looked at himself in a reflective surface and saw his golden eyes, there was a sense of dread that came over him, like something unnatural and unholy had occurred to create those eyes. No wonder most who looked at him feared him. He feared himself. 

“Either way,” Miroku said, and it jerked him out of his reverie, and he blinked. “We need to get cleaned up before the banquet.”

“I don’t see any spare clothes lyin’ around.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Miroku said, waving him off. “Mushin will take good care of us. Keep us stuffed with ale and clad in finery.”

“I don’t  _ do _ finery.”

“Yes, yes, well, keep an open mind.”

* * *

Mushin was a kind man. A drunkard, but a kind man. His belly and nose were both round. A pleasant flush seemed to live on his cheeks. From his garb, it was clear he did not have much, but he had enough, and could make due with just about anything, from the handiwork of his tavern.

“Raised the boy from childhood, I did!” he said, rummaging around in the cupboards behind the bar of his empty tavern. “After all, his mother passed away so young, and Miroku’s father— well, that’s another story. Hope you like grog made with ale.”

Inuyasha grunted. Watered down piss. Whatever. The man had let him bathe, clothed him, and gave him a break from Miroku by asking him to fetch some food from the market. He’d take whatever this Mushin gave him.

“So Miroku tells me you’re here for the banquet?”

“Here to protect him from the banquet.”

Mushin chuckled and pulled out three large glass mugs, smudged with fingerprints. “Yes, he does have a way of finding himself in troubling situations, hopeless flirt that he is. He’s right to fear the court of Cintra. Though at the moment I wonder if we should all be more scared of Nilfgaard.”

Nilfgaard? Nilfgaard was to Cintra’s south east, and for the most part, the two kept to themselves. There had been rumors a while back; tales of a Nilfgaardian prince obsessed with a fair, powerful mage from Aretuza, so he sought to create powers of his own. Enough to make her love him. Forbidden kinds of magic. Still, there were a lot of rumors that ran about the Continent. Just the other day, Miroku had told him a rumor about a flea-type monster that talked in human language. Ridiculous. The Nilfgaard rumors had disappeared, anyway, as soon as they acquired a new mage a few years back. But if they were on everyone’s radar again...

“Explain.”

“Well,” Mushin said, sighing. “There’s been talk of Nilfgaardian troops on the border. Outside of their territory. We’ve also lost some of our trade ships due to mysterious circumstances. Reports of dense fog, ghost ships, that sort of thing.” Mushin paused and started to fill the three glasses halfway with ale. “Now Cintrans are superstitious types; it’s why we haven’t had a mage for centuries. We don’t trust magic, never have. But now, these movements have us all wondering. Perhaps Nilfgaard will see the acquisition of this new mage in Cintra as a threat? Perhaps they will pay us no attention at all. Either way, we cannot remain undefended on a magical front. The Queen is proud, but she is not stupid. She won’t leave our way of life open to destruction, no matter the cost to her ego.”

Dense fog. Ghost ships. Movement at the border.

Inuyasha had been a Witcher for a long time. He’d seen petty tribal squabbles, he’d seen blood shed and magic cast about so heavy that the air was thick with it. He fought creatures of all shapes and sizes that had killed humans mercilessly. He’d seen villages burn, women and children’s rotting corpses, and hopelessness spread like a plague. All this, and yet he had not seen full-on war between any two territories. But hundreds of years of relative peace was not enough to make him a fool. Whether Cintra wanted to accept it or not, war was coming. Most likely, it was already on their doorstep. 

Mushin knew it, too. He topped off the three mugs with water and slid one over to Inuyasha. Mushin held up his mug for a toast. 

“To the beginning of the end. Or the end of the beginning.”

Inuyasha hummed, raised his glass, and they drank to one of the two. 

“Starting the festivities without me, I see?” Miroku said, bursting in with a bag of food over one shoulder and ornate garments over the other. He himself had already changed into something frivolous and his nair was neatly combed back to a short ponytail. He thrust the clothes from his shoulder onto Inuyasha’s lap.

“I’m not wearing that shit,” said Inuyasha with a scowl. 

“We’ll see!'

* * *

His outfit was tight, forest green, elaborately patterned, and fucking  _ uncomfortable _ .

“Hey!” Inuyasha barked at Miroku. “How the hell am I supposed to fight in this?”

“You’re not,” said Miroku, tugging on his sleeve. “You’re supposed to look scary.”

“In  _ this _ .”

“And court-appropriate! Can’t have you going in looking like you’ve just come from a fight, or angling for one. It’s a celebration, remember?” he said. “Remember how to smile?”

“Keh,” Inuyasha said, shoving his hands in his pockets. Whatever this get up was, it was nowhere near as comfortable as his armor. Of course, that had been custom made for him. He was pretty sure Miroku just picked up whatever he could find, which was why his biceps and thighs felt like they were stretching the material to the point of ripping. He tugged at the fabric, feeling his sword and sheath jostle at his side from the movement. At least he got to keep that. 

“Just be your lovely, charming self and it’ll all work itself out,” said Miroku. “Or, we’ll both end up dead in a ditch in the morning. Odds are pretty even at this point.”

“Anyone I should watch out for in particular?” he said, rolling his eyes. 

“Ummmm…”

Inuyasha felt his face go slack from disbelief. 

“You don’t know their names, do you?”

“Of course I know their names! They’ll come to me. Hard to put names with faces.”

Sure it was. He hoped, for Miroku’s sake, that that excuse held up. 

The entrance to the Cintran palace was not overly grand, but it wasn’t miserly, either. The stone walls were thick and precise and strong enough to defend the royals from a physical attack, he’d wager. Cintran banners, three yellow lions roaring on a bright blue, were draped over the towering walls. Night had fallen, so the castle itself was lit by torch, and the flames danced across the rocks as dozens of overly-dressed noble citizens strode through the entrance. The door was heavy wood and interlocked iron, guarded heavily by multiple armed men and women in uniform. He wasn’t sure if this much armament was typical for Cintra; no one else seemed to notice it. They did, however, notice him. Thanks to his excellent hearing, he was treated to every passing comment made about his presence and his appearance.

_ “Is that a Witcher? I thought they were all—” _

_ “— doing here, such an unnatural creature, we’re already inviting in a mage—” _

_ “—the famous song about him, you know, the one no one can get out of their head—” _

_ “—heard he butchered the entire village of Blaviken. No survivors.” _

He made fists, dug his nails into his palms, tried to keep calm. It was the same kind of talk he usually heard, but now it was all packed together, coming at him from all sides, and he was entering a closed building where it would only get worse, only begin to take over all of his senses. His ears were amplifiers, absorbing every criticism, every harrowing tale ever told about him. 

What was he doing? There wasn’t enough money in the world to deal with this shit.

He stepped back, about to make a swift exit, before he heard something else. Something new. Only this time, it wasn’t with his ears. It was in his head. A fog began to take over his senses, his eyes, his body.

_ You are safe here, Witcher. _

Feminine, kind, a nurturing voice. Unfamiliar. So sweet, with a tenderness he had not heard since he was a child. He felt the urge to seek it out, to ask it more, to beg it to make its owner known, to make it stay, when—

“Oi! Inuyasha!” said Miroku, waving his hand in front of Inuyasha’s face. In an instant, the spell broke. He looked around; everyone else, even the knights on guard, had already made their way inside. Miroku was standing impatiently in front of him, instrument ready to play. “How long have you been standing like that?”

“Uh,” he said. “Was someone talking just now?”

“Yeah, me,” Miroku responded, now looking seriously concerned. “Inuyasha. Is everything alright?”

He nodded slowly, still feeling in a bit of a daze. 

“Good. Because the blacksmith’s already looking at me like he wants to kill me. Could use some Witcher backup.”

Inuyasha shook his head briefly to try and shake what remained of the psychic fog. “How much were you going to pay me again?”

“Out of the goodness of my heart, I was planning on splitting whatever the Queen pays me for playing the banquet tonight,” he said. “But that requires me to play at the banquet. Sight cleaner work than you usually have to do for much less profit.”

Inuyasha groaned. “Fine. But this gets dicey, I’m getting more than fifty percent.”

“I’m up for negotiations.”

* * *

“Is that Inuyasha? Of Rivia? Here in our court?”

The place was bright, rowdy, and fully of uncomfortably drunken men. Not his favorite place to be, for certain. Miroku had promised good food, at least, and it seemed the court of Cintra did at least fulfill that expectation. So far, though, Inuyasha saw little to be desired within the castle. A lot of show, of pomp and circumstance, what with the band (lead jubilantly by Miroku) playing lewd jigs, the tables being overcrowded, and the royalty sitting far away from the rest, about four feet above everyone. He hoped he could get through the night as ignored muscle, but almost as soon as he stepped foot in the main room, he had been spotted.

It was a decrepit old man that had called him out. He was short, coming up only to about Inuyasha’s chest. His eyes bulged out of their sockets and his back curved forward to an extreme degree. He may have been dressed up for the occasion, but Inuyasha would recognize this man anywhere. Without further greeting, Totosai reached for the sword at his side. InuYasha jumped back.

“Hey!” he said. “What the hell?”

“Just checking on my Tetsusaiga,” Totosai responded, peering at InuYasha suspiciously. “You haven’t done anything to it, have you?”

“Nice to see you, too, Totosai.”

“You know I made that sword from your father’s sword. It’s priceless. You better be taking care of it.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah old man, “ Inuyasha said, keeping his sword sheathed. He didn’t want to show it off to the entire banquet hall.

“What brings you to Cintra? It’s been some time,” said Totosai. He looked Inuyasha up and down. “You look like a sad silk trader.”

“Best I could do under the circumstances. I’m here to protect that guy from any court cuckolds,” he said, gesturing to Miroku, who had managed to sneak away from the band. At the moment he was leaning against a stone pillar, talking to a young looking girl who was either very drunk or very heavy with the rouge on her cheeks. From the other end of the room, through the crowded hall, Inuyasha spotted a burly, red-haired man storming toward his friend. He sighed. 

“Duty calls.”

“Indeed,” said Totosai, following his eyeline. “Well, for what it’s worth, enjoy yourself tonight. The finest Cintra has to offer is here.”

“Hmm.” 

The man made it to Miroku and had him pinned against the wall by the time Inuyasha made it across the room.

“You look an awful lot like the prick I saw fleeing my wife’s room last year!”

Miroku had his hands held up and grimaced. “Please, sir, I implore you—”

“Couldn’t have been him,” Inuyasha interjected, and the bleary-eyed man looked his direction.

“What the fuck do you know about it?”

“The bard was in a terrible accident as a child,” he said. “He’d be about as useful in the bedroom as his music would be. You’re right though— he does have the face of a pervert and a coward.”

The man released Miroku and looked down sheepishly. “My— my apologies, good sir.” He slapped a coin to Miroku’s vest. “Here. Drown your eunuch sorrows on me.”

The man then disappeared into the crowd of lively and bright celebration. Miroku looked on, slack-jawed. It took a full ten seconds before Inyasha doubled over with laughter.

“He— now the whole court— ha!— this is great,” Inuyasha said between guffaws. 

“... I’ll have you know, women love my singing voice,” Miroku said, sadly.

Inuyasha straightened up and wiped a humorous tear from his eye. “Well, on the bright side, I don’t think you need to worry about me protecting you anymore.”

“True.”

It was then that someone started clinking glass, very loudly, as if amplified from a higher space. Inuyasha looked toward the end of the hall to where the royalty sat, and sure enough, one of the Queen’s servants stood in front of the table, commanding the attention of the mass of people. When everyone quieted, he returned to his spot behind the table, announcing in a loud voice, “Prepare to welcome the princess of Cintra!”

In the center of the table, at the place reserved only for the most royal of the royalty, was the Queen of Cintra. Her hair was in a lustrous, intricate braid that cascaded down her back and out of sight. She wore a golden dress with criss-crossed threads in a diamond pattern, making it look almost as though it were quilted armor. Atop her head sat the sapphire-encrusted crown of Cintra, where it had remained ever since her husband had passed away years ago. To her left sat her young son, Kohaku, a boy of no more than eleven years, who sat with a nervous look on his freckled face in his own matching golden garb. He looked around the room as if trying to spot someone. The seat to the right of the queen was, conspicuously, empty.

It was then that the door to the main hall burst open, and through it strode the princess of Cintra. Sango was every bit as beautiful as Miroku had described, but she did not appear in equally beautiful clothing. Instead, she crossed the hall in great strides wearing skin tight battle armor, spotted with old blood, followed by a dozen soldiers in varying conditions. Across her back hung her weapon of choice, a gigantuan boomerang, which she was infamous for using against larger foes such as giants. Alongside her leapt a large cat-like creature with wide, feral eyes and multiple tails. Her faithful companion, Kirara. 

Next to him, Inuyasha heard Miroku gulp. He turned, and the bard’s face was white and slack, as if he equally feared and coveted what he saw. Inuyasha snorted. It had been worth keeping knowledge of the princess’s ferocity to himself. 

“Sango!” shouted Kohaku, and the boy leapt over the table, running toward his sister. His mother hissed, disapproving, but could not help but smile when he embraced his older and taller sister. She hugged him back, smiling, a bit of dirt smudged on her nose.

“Did you kill the Fleder?”

“We did,” she said, though so softly that Inuyasha was pretty sure he was the only one that could hear. “Mother,” she announced, kneeling in front of the royal table. “We have sought out and destroyed the Fleder of Attre, who has killed multiple peasants and nobles alike these past few months. Please send word to Attre that they can sleep without fear once again.”

The whole room erupted in cheers. Mugs crashed together, ale spilled on the ground, and some burst into spontaneous song. Meanwhile, the Queen smiled at her daughter, who beamed up at her mother with weary pride. 

“That,” Miroku said, almost breathless, “is one hell of a woman.”

“Yeah, good luck with that, Miroku.”

“I must meet her.”

“Maybe, I don’t know, give her a minute to get her bearings back before trying to grab her ass?”

“You wound me!” said Miroku, and Inuyasha shoved him with one hand. “I have nothing but respect for the women I pursue.”

“Respect, my ass.”

“Well, I respect that, too.”

“Fuck off.”

Miroku nodded and replied, “I’ll get us some ale.”

He’d need it if he was going to continue to get through this night. 

* * *

The next hour was torture.

Sure, he had experienced actual, physical pain as torture before, but he was inclined to believe that it was preferable to whatever was going on here. The night became more and more raucous and citizens became more and more drunk. This included Miroku, who, to no one’s surprise, became more and more talkative.

“And then!” Miroku shouted to his captive audience at the table, one foot on the table top, one hand held in the air. “The great Inuyasha held out his mighty sword and slay the beast with one slice of his sword!”

Cheers. Applause. Someone patted his back. Others eyed him curiously.

One thing he had noticed, though, was that the criticism he’d experienced at the castle gate had completely stopped. It was as if, as soon as he entered the castle, humans  _ forgot _ to hate him. They forgot they hated his terrifying eyes, his alien ears, and his giant sword, which had been used to earn him the title “butcher of Blaviken”. Which was a ridiculous idea. He’d always been hated by humans for the most part. There were some that were kind to him, and as much as he was loathe to admit it, some of that was in part due to Miroku’s tales of his heroism, but overall, they saw him for what he was. A mutant. An unwanted boy, turned into an unwanted, but necessary man. Mutant. Whatever. 

But ever since hearing that sweet voice in his head, the comments had stopped, as if someone had put a hush over the castle when it came to casting aspersions on his character. Who would do something like that? And why?

Before long, Princess Sango had rejoined her family, wearing a dress similar to her mothers, but with long, effeminate sleeves. Her hair, which had been up and out of her face like any warrior, was now hanging down her shoulders. She chatted amicably with her family, animating something to her brother, who watched with awe that could only come from a younger sibling. The food in front of them remained untouched, the goblets unspilled. The Queen smiled, a little sadly, at her children. 

He continued his observations of the room, remaining pointedly outside of any sphere of conversation, when he saw something. Out of the corner of his eye, across the great divide of the hall, he caught a glimpse of something beautiful. Light blue eyes like he had never seen, almost as if created by magic. He followed them with his own eyes, afraid to blink in case he lost them in the crowd. But there— spotted again— heading toward the royal table. Light blue eyes. The eyes of a mage.

This had to be the mage that the banquet was being held for.

She passed through the crowd and the room started to get quieter. He began to see more of her as the people parted in her wake— long, raven hair, free, as if tossed by the wind. A beautiful figure, clad in a form-fitting bright blue velvet dress, matching the blue of the Cintran banner. Skin unscarred and pale, a shy smile on her lips. She walked like a cloud in the sky, making her way up to the royal table, where she sat next to the princess, who gave her a welcoming smile. 

It was clear the royal family had not expected the room to go silent at her entrance, but why they wouldn’t have anticipated this, Inuyasha did not know. She was mesmerizing. Every man and woman had their eyes fixed on her and nothing else. Including him.

“Ahem,” said the steward from before, receiving a nudge from the Queen in front of him. “May I present to the court, to all of Cintra, the first mage of the Houko monarchy, Kagome of Vengerberg!”

To the rest of the hall, she could have been looking anywhere, but Inuyasha felt that her eyes were fixed directly on him. She was frowning a bit, puzzled, but more curious than anything. He could do nothing but gaze back.

“Good luck with that, Inuyasha,” Miroku said behind him.

Luck had never been on his side, but now, he thought he might just need it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next:
> 
> "“This is only the beginning. You can do this and so much more. Power is fascinating. It’s consuming. But remember, power can be a curse if used wrongly.”
> 
> “Then how should I use it?” 
> 
> “For people, Kagome. To protect people. That’s all it’s good for. It can’t bring you happiness, and it can’t bring you love.”


	2. Bloody Palms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the kind words! It's definitely motivated me to write more than I usually do. I used to write chapters about 2,000 words long, but these days, it's closer to 5k, and a lot of it is due to the fact that people actually read my stuff! Another HUGE shoutout to WitchyGirl99 for the repost on Tumblr and a big thanks to meggz0rz and Feudal Connection for nominating this fic! Hope I don't screw it up!
> 
> Now on with the show!

#### Chapter 2: Bloody Palms

When she tried to recall the earliest memory she ever had, there was nothing but a rushing noise. It was as if she was moving very fast through a world moving very slowly, or perhaps the other way around. The world had been a mass of black and white shapes and figures colliding, and then, bursting into color. Red, blue, yellow, green, purple, silver, gold, then a violent pink that took over her senses, blinding her to all other light. The rushing got even worse; she was the center of tornadic movement, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball until it went away.

Her next memory was of her father. His youthful face shone down at her like the sun. He held her tiny hands in his hands, and between them, they had created a ball of pale pink light.

“This is only the beginning, Kagome,” he whispered. “You can do this and so much more. Power is fascinating. It’s consuming.”

He dropped his hands and she followed. The light disappeared.

“But remember, power can be a curse if used wrongly.”

“Then how?” she said in a small voice.

“For people, Kagome. To protect people. That’s all it’s good for. It can’t bring you happiness, and it can’t bring you love.”

_Hold on to those memories,_ she heard a voice say in her mind, _hold on, Kagome!_

Her father’s face was slipping away into darkness, far from her sight, 

_No, no, father!_

“Aaaaack! Dammit!”

She shook her head, frustrated. Her long black hair fell in her face as her hands smacked the stone floor. She was in Tor Lara, the stone tower of the Gull, surrounded by a glowing pool of eels, as her mentor, Kaede, watched on. Kaede was an old woman with an eyepatch, fond of wearing simple clothes, and even fonder of simple speech. She hovered over Kagome with her arms folded behind her back, good eye perceptive as always.

“What went wrong?”

“I don’t know,” said Kagome.

“You must,” responded Kaede. 

“But I don’t!”

“That’s not good enough for the kingdom of Cintra,” said Kaede. “And that will be nothing but fodder for Nilfgaard.”

Kaede was not wrong in this regard. They were going through her memories for one simple purpose: to guard them. They had to be protected from manipulation by other mages. They were what Kagome and other mages drew upon for magical strength and guidance, and if they were to be corrupted, her purpose could be, too. So could her sense of self. So it was very important to keep these memories in tact, clear, and hidden from prying enemies. This was most easily done in Tor Lara, located in the school of Aretuza, and, as Kaede was fond of saying, “the most potent place on the Continent”. Magical energy thrummed there, in the walls, in the glowing pool, through the open hole in the stone ceiling, where one could see the sky. It was the perfect place to hone in on her earliest, most important memories. Now it was night, and the pair was lit by the glow from the circular pool around the center stone.

“I don’t remember anything else from my childhood,” Kagome said, exhausted. She knew how important it was that she master this skill before going to Cintra, before meeting the Houko monarchy. She had to make a good impression on them— they hadn’t had a mage since the conjunction of the spheres, and to be given the opportunity to serve Cintra was perhaps the highest honor ever to be given at Aretuza. Especially now, since the once impotent Nilfgaard started gaining power and sending ominous threats to the North. 

She lifted her head and looked up at Kaede, whose wrinkled face was twisted into a frown. No— worse— a _disappointed_ frown. 

“Cintra is expecting the best Aretuza has to offer. And it’s true— you’ve excelled in just about every other aspect of your training. But to fully access your magic, you must be able to fully access your past, which is a more potent source of chaos for its owner than any other living thing,” Kaede said, leaning down toward Kagome, who was now sitting on folded legs, hands in fists at her side. “There’s chaos in your past, girl. If you cannot learn to channel it, it may be more than Cintra that pays the price.”

* * *

“More than Cintra,” Kagome said to herself, washing off her arms. She had decided to take a bath the next morning to ease her mind, and to scrub off the sweat from the restless sleep she had the night before. The bathroom was spacious, dimly lit, and adorned with brass fixtures that seemed to shimmer in the flickering light from the candles. Her hair was pulled up and she sank down, all but her head submerged in the warm water. 

What had Kaede meant, more than Cintra? Kagome knew she was not privy to much— she was a relatively young mage, still in her early twenties— and the meetings between Aretuza and the brotherhood were where most political things were discussed. Wars, alliances, assignments, and strategy were all part of gossip amongst the students, sure, but true knowledge was only divined from those at the top, like Kaede and Bankotsu. What she wouldn’t give to know more about what she was up against. 

After all, she would like to be able to warn her mother, brother and grandfather if something was coming. She had, after all, started this whole journey for them. 

She supposed there wasn’t much she could do about any of it now except practice summoning those memories. 

_There’s chaos in your past, girl._

Was there? Kagome frowned across the water, candle light reflecting on the surface. She was being honest when she said she didn’t have many memories of her childhood. Her father had passed away when she was young, and that had been painful, and she knew her grandfather had moved in at some point, but she couldn’t remember specifics. In fact, she remembered little before she opened her first magical portal to the Tower of the Gull, where Kaede had found her. Everything after that was too recent to be potent enough, Kaede said. 

So Kagome decided to try. She closed her eyes, and like the previous night, she focused on her breathing. In. Out. Quick at first, then slower, slower and more shallow, to the point where the average onlooker would barely notice her breathing at all. She focused on the center of her head, the locus of her mind, and soon enough, rushing came once again. The very first memory. The explosion of color, then of pink light. Then came her father’s warm hands and his warmer words. 

She felt her mind begin to shut, but with some mental effort, she attempted to pry it open, as if by crowbar. Without realizing it, her breathing began to reverse, to speed up. It was working. Suddenly the wall closing in lifted, and she could see something— something she had never seen before—

A man. There was a man in her mind. He was standing in a dark forest alone, one hand on his sword, about to pull it from its sheath. She didn’t know many men, and she felt she would have remembered this one if she met him before. He was strong, dressed in black armor, contrasting with his near white hair and the white, triangular ears atop his head. His golden eyes narrowed at her as if trying to make sense of her. She realized that she knew what his skin felt like, warm and scarred, a fighter’s skin. For a moment she thought she could taste his breath.

This warped suddenly into an image of a village on fire. It was a nondescript village, and certainly not one she recognized. She could hear the distant screams, could smell the burning flesh and oil. Someone stood in front of the village, and he, too, was staring at her. He was probably a mage, she determined by his posture and his purple garb, but she did not know who. His eyes were red. He smiled at her, grinning with full teeth, like a predator. He held up his hands to her, and she held hers up to her face.

Blood. Her hands were covered in blood.

She turned them over, not believing it, but her hands were painted in thick, red blood. She could feel it, slick and thin, warm blood. 

She tried to scream, but found that there was no air to inhale, as if precious oxygen had been replaced by something liquid. As if she were underwater.

In reality, she sat up out of the water, coughing, gasping. Her hair, which had been in a dry bun before, was now wet and plastered to her skull. She blinked until the wetness around her eyes went away, but she could not tell if it was the bathwater or tears.

She had almost drowned trying to access… whatever she had just accessed.

Best not tell that to Kaede. Not yet.

* * *

Needless to say, when she saw the man from her “memories”, she was a little more than curious.

The banquet at Cintra had really been too much. Kagome had been able to meet the royal family a few weeks before and she fell in love with them instantly. They were not so unlike her own family— mother, older sister, younger brother, cat— all that was missing was a representation of her grandfather. Sango was bright, active, and protective. Kohaku idolized her, but seemed to have a softer spirit than his sister, and more than once flinched at the details of her slaying another monster. The Queen was quiet but commanding, kind but firm. It was clear that the throne had been forced upon her and she’d taken up the mantle, rather than being born into it. And Kirara, Sango’s trusted companion, had the charming little trick of turning into what appeared to be a housecat when not under threat. The family had been nothing charming and inviting when she met them, but they had insisted upon holding a banquet.

“It’s tradition,” the Queen had said, not unkindly, at the breakfast table the morning before. “The people deserve to celebrate you.”

“And besides,” said prince Kohaku, chucking a grape into his mouth. “Sango should be coming back from Attre sometime soon. So it won’t be just you they’re celebrating. You can share the attention.”

Kagome sighed. She didn’t want _any_ attention, but she supposed shared attention was better than all of it. 

But then, when she was bracing herself to be seen by the rest of Cintra, for the attention to uncomfortably rest on her, that man stood out in the crowd. He was leaning against a pillar toward the back, but he might as well have been the only one in the room once she saw him. Silver hair. A fitted green vest and matching garments that made his eyes golder than even in her memories. He could have easily been in his twenties or thirties— it was hard to tell— but whatever his age, he had certainly noticed her. His expression was a bit surprised, and he matched her gaze for a few moments before breaking off. He pushed off the stone wall and headed further back into the crowd.

Wait— where did he think he was going?

Various peasants had started lining up in front of the royal table, bowing, singing the praises of the monarchy and giving their thanks to Kagome and her “ _no doubt incredible power_ ”, or whatever, but she could not stop thinking about the man she had seen in the crowd. During a lull she leaned over to Sango, who was looking bored and fidgety. She’d only known the girl for a short period of time, but she could already tell she hated banquets as much as Kagome herself did.

“Hey,” Kagome whispered, “did you notice that guy like twenty minutes back? The one in the back of the room.”

Sango sipped wine lazily out of her goblet. If Kagome had to wager, she’d guess the girl did not handle her liquor very well. “They all start to look the same after a while.”

“This one was different. He had silver hair— not like an old guy, young— but gold eyes, too, and white dog-looking ears on top of his head. He looked familiar.”

Sango’s eyes widened. “The Witcher Inuyasha’s here?”

_The Witcher Inuyasha._ She’d only heard legends about Witchers, and she didn’t think there were actually any left. It was, from what she understood, a dead career, the mantle only being taken up by mutant humans who were brutally tortured from boyhood until they achieved perfection. Only one in three boys, she heard, made it through the Trial of the Grasses. Much like Aretuza.

So, in a way, they had a lot in common.

“I thought there were no more Witchers,” said Kagome.

Sango snorted, her cheeks flushed. She definitely could _not_ hold her liquor. “He’s one of the last ones left, but they’re still around. They’re mercenaries. And Inuyasha… he has a reputation.”

“A reputation?”

“They call him the butcher of Blaviken,” Sango whispered. “They say that he slaughtered a dozen people in the village, including a mage. No one knows what really happened, and no one’s mentioned any Witcher-human killings since, but still,” she narrowed her eyes conspiratorially. “Fucking shady.”

Kagome laughed nervously and took a sip of her own wine before Sango gestured for her to put it down. She then held out her goblet. 

“Here, take this. If I drink any more I’ll be sick tomorrow.”

Kagome took the goblet and nodded, taking a sip for good measure. Of what was left, anyway.

Suddenly, Sango stood up, her seat making a screeching noise as she rose. The room fell quiet.

“My good people,” she announced, “In celebration of this momentous affair, I say we dance! Bard! Please play us something lively!”

The bard, a man with his hair in a short ponytail and bright purple clothing, was eyeing the princess with stars in his eyes. “But of course, princess!”

And the music picked up. People from across the room were grabbing each other by the hand and swinging them around. Kagome recognized the Cintran jig from something Kaede taught her for her assignment. Sango pulled Kohaku up from his seat and lead him to the main floor. The Queen sat at her post, but Kagome could tell she was tapping her foot. Everyone seemed to be joining in with the jaunty tune. Still, as much as she liked music and dancing, she hated being the center of attention while doing it. So she sat at her chair, lips on her goblet, waving off potential suitors until she received a reproachful eye from the Queen.

“Don’t make me tell the bard to keep playing jigs until you dance.”

Kagome sighed and scooted back from the table. Better get it over with. 

As soon as she stepped onto the floor she was met by a charming young noble with blue eyes. His hair was sandy brown, and his smile was so sincere it was… nauseating? That didn’t seem like the right reaction. He held out his hand to her and it hung in the air for a moment longer than was polite. 

“Uh,” the gentleman said. “Akitoki Hojou, from the western provinces. So delighted to meet such a beautiful- I mean fantastic- I mean skilled mage. Surely our territory does not deserve you.”

Ugh. _Nauseating._ She plastered a reluctant smile on her face.

“You’re too kind,” she said.

“No, I could never be kind enough!” he said, aghast. “Your presence here means so much for our country. Our royal family is certainly capable, but since the death of the king, they’ve been…” he trailed off. “It will be good to have someone to protect us. And them as well.”

Dammit. Overwhelming sincerity. And kindness. She supposed one dance wouldn’t hurt. She took his long-proffered hand and his smile, if possible, got wider. 

* * *

Somewhere in the forests surrounding the center of Cintra, a demon sat waiting. 

Well, she called herself the Demoness, but she was no more a monster than the other genetically altered beings. Still, she felt it suited her red eyes, her dark hair, her pale skin, her wicked smile. And it was handy to have a nickname when one wanted to strike fear into the heart of one's enemies. The enemies all had different names, faces, and in the end, they all met their ends at the edge of her blades. Tonight, the enemy was Cintra. She was perched on a strong branch of a particularly large oak as her sister sat below her. No one would believe Kanna was a demon; she was more of a ghost, with pale hair, white skin, pale everything, even clothing and eyes. She clung to her round mirror as a child would a blanket. Soft. Mysterious. Deadly. 

“Kagura,” she said, softly. “What do you see?”

“Not much,” Kagura responded. “The city is pretty dead, but the castle is lively. It’s just as we were told. They’re having the banquet tonight.” She grinned widely. “All of the power players will be in the castle. It’ll be much easier to take them all out in one fell swoop. Then we can continue moving north.”

Kanna didn’t respond, but she rarely did. Kagura closed her eyes and felt the wind rustle her ornate kimono. It was something she’d picked up at one of the coastal ports and she would be damned if she didn’t wear it to a battle as important as this. 

If she were lucky, it might not get splattered with blood. But these things did happen.

It then occurred to her that they had still not heard back from their general about the timing of the attack. Should it be during the celebration or just after, when everyone was fat and drunk and asleep? They had debated both options, but the decision had yet to be made for them. 

When Kanna spoke next, it was as if she had heard her thinking. She did that sometimes.

“Prince Onigumo wants to strike at the end of the party,” Kanna said. “When they are all tired and drunk.”

Kagura nodded. “Remember Kanna,”she said, “he goes by Naraku now.”

* * *

The dance floor was crowded, hot, and sweaty. As this Hojou spun her around, she thought she probably shouldn’t have worn velvet. Or long sleeves. Or a long dress. She hated long skirts, why had she decided tonight of all nights to wear what she hated the most? She knew it wasn’t customary to wear short skirts as a royal but what she wouldn’t give for a light breeze. 

Hojou was also one of those dancers that liked to talk, which was also less than ideal. 

“Miss Kagome, I mean, miss Mage, what should I call you? Do you go by sorceress? Anyway, I wanted to tell you that my great great grandmother was a mage, too, though she was assigned to some territory in the far north I think, and it made me think, wow, how cold it must get up there if it snows all the way down here! Because my family doesn’t do the cold very well-”

She smiled, or maybe grimaced. She couldn’t remember the difference anymore. She felt she should be a little nicer to the poor boy— he was clearly trying to be charming, but his nerves were getting the best of him. Unfortunately her impatience was getting the best of her. She was about to open her mouth to say something, _anything_ , to get a reprieve from his sweaty palms and empty conversation, when she found his hands replaced by someone else’s. She blinked and the frustrating Akitoki Hojou was gone. 

In his place was another man, smiling, though it was more of a mischievous smile than anything else. His steps had not missed a beat in the dance. His eyes were blue, but not quite as blue as hers, and while she detected some magical prowess from him, it was not enough to call him a mage. He certainly hadn’t been trained. His black hair was pulled back into a short ponytail and she realized that this was the bard.

“Sir bard,” she said. 

“Lovely mage,” he said, spinning around her, leading rather effortlessly, “There is no need for formalities. After all, we are both in the Houko’s employ, are we not?”

“I guess,” she said. 

“Thank you for honoring me with this dance.”

“Didn't have much of a choice,” she murmured. She got the distinct feeling he heard her, but he kept smiling politely. 

“I hope you don’t consider it imprudent, but I did have a question to ask you,” he said, glancing behind him as if he were about to spill a secret. “How close are you with the princess?”

“Princess Sango?”

“Yes,” he said. “I would love to meet her, but I’m afraid that introducing myself would be impertinent.”

Kagome nodded. There were various rules of the court they all had to follow, even if she personally found them a bit arbitrary.

“Uh, I mean, I know her, but I only met her a few weeks ago, and she’s been away most of the time-”

“ _Splendid_ ,” he said, having apparently heard only the first part of her sentence. “I simply cannot wait to meet such a woman. I never knew such a fine… royal… existed. Though I have quite an incredible woman in front of me,” he said, gazing at her lips, then her chest. 

Ugh. This guy went from tolerable to insufferable in 0.5 seconds. She could feel his hand slide from her upper back down lower to the curvature of her spine.

“Say, miss mage, are you spoken for? If not, would you do me the honor of bearing my— Ack!”

Before he got the chance to finish his sentence he dropped her hands like they were hot, a look of pain and confusion crossing his face. He looked his hands over front to back, flipping them over again and again.

“Did you— I thought my—“

“Thought your hands were on fire?” Kagome said, pissed off beyond belief. “Finish that sentence and they will be!”

She stormed away, heading toward the edge of the crowd. Who in the hell did he think he was? She hoped the periphery would provide her some place to at least attract less attention, and at most, make her close to invisible. She pushed her way through a couple of good and sauced coach drivers, clinking their mugs, spilling ale down her arm. 

Perfect.

And what the hell did he think _she_ was, a piece of meat? She cursed audibly as she slunk against the stone wall. At Aretuza they told her to beware of men in the territories. Nobles and peasants alike were nothing like the other mages in the brotherhood. Women were good for what to them? Child bearing? Food preparing? She briefly wondered how many women in the territories poisoned their husbands. She was willing to bet it was quite a few. 

She grabbed a goblet of wine from a server passing by and chugged. If she was going to get through the rest of the night, she didn’t want to do it sober.

“Are all mages lushes?” asked a voice to her right. It startled her. She hadn’t noticed anyone approaching her. 

It was him. The man from her memory, the one with the golden eyes. Up close she could see the subtleties in his features, the scars across his face, his ungloved hands revealing cracked skin and calloused knuckles and sharp nails. Predator-like. He was clearly not a pampered noble— he was too tan for that, and in his tight green clothing he appeared possibly more uncomfortable than she did. His arms were crossed and he leaned against the stone wall behind him. She considered him for a moment, then decided that her memory must have been something else. Someone else. She’d never met this man before, she was certain of it now. If she had truly remembered him from an actual meeting, she would have remembered his sour expression.

She leaned into the wall, wishing she could melt into it. “Rather be drunk through the rest of this banquet because I hate these things. Not that it’s any of your business. But thanks, Witcher, for the unasked input.”

He snorted. Ok. One point in the unattractive column so far.

“Humans can’t hold as much liquor as they think. Not even mages.”

“Again. Unasked input. Thanks,” she hiccuped, cursed, then added. “I can take care of myself.”

“You’re Kagome of Vengerberg, the first mage of Cintra,” he responded, looking directly at her for the first time since her announcement. Those golden eyes locked with hers in a way that made her chest do funny things. Made her cheeks feel redder than the wine. “You need to be able to take care of more than that.”

“You don’t know me, Inuyasha of Rivia,” she bit back, saddled with the uncomfortable knowledge that she was now visibly flustered. What was wrong with the men of Cintra? Or was this just men in general, and she had been sheltered for so long, she didn’t realize they were all so… insufferable? Of course she was able to take care of more than herself. Her sole purpose in life was to provide for her family, and she’d fought like hell to make that possible. What the hell did he know?

He rolled his eyes. “Keh, I know your type. Trusted with all this power and glory because you’re young and beautiful and can do a few magic tricks. Meanwhile some of us actually get shit done,” he laughed. It was not a nice laugh. “Fucking joke.”

“Excuse me? Get shit done?” She asked, getting really pissed off now. She’d had just enough alcohol to loosen her tongue now. “Really? Like murder innocent people at Blaviken?”

She regretted it the moment she said it. Here she was meeting this man for the first time, and yeah, he was a bit of a prick, but it was a low blow to judge someone off a rumor, then throw that rumor in their face. 

He turned fully to her, his eyes narrowing, jaw clenched. He had one hand on the stone wall next to them, and his clawed fingers dug into the walls. He was very hurt. And very angry. She fought the urge to take a step back. 

“You don’t know shit about shit,” he spat. He looked as though he were going to take her to task. “But a little advice on functioning outside the precious walls of Aretuza. Try not to be such a pretentious bitch.”

Her blood was boiling, and she was ready to respond with such fire, such malice, enough to _destroy_ him, when something pricked at the corner of her mind. Through the boozy fog and angry lightning of her thoughts there snaked in a thick purple smoke. Slow, purposeful, dissolving into thick clouds that filled her head. 

Something was coming. 

Something was coming, and it was something she’d never seen before. But like stepping on a nail, she knew in an instant that it was bad news. She turned to look at the royal table where the Queen sat, chatting amicably with one of the nobles that had stopped to talk behind the table. The rest of the family was nowhere to be seen.

“Oh come _on_ ,” said Inuyasha from behind her, “Don’t tell me you’re gonna go cry to the queen.”

She spun around, still furious, but with a hint of fear.

“Something is coming,” she said, and instantly, the sneer fell off his face. Where there had just been a fierce adversary was now— dare she think it— a possible ally. “We have to evacuate the castle. _Now._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: 
> 
> “Look,” Inuyasha said, “Maybe it’s not my place, cause you’re royalty or whatever, but there is an army here. Now. Thousand men. Three mages. And no offense to you or your security detail, but the only ones that stand a chance against these guys? You’re looking at them.” He paused, and he noticed Kagome’s eyes slide his way. “So let us do what we know how to do.”


	3. When The Party's Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just really, really honored by the feedback I've received. Many of you are people whose writing I've admired for years. So for that, THANK YOU! It keeps me writing, it really does.
> 
> To answer dear Wenchester, who is TOO KIND OMG, this is DEFINITELY InuKag. I don't think I know how to write any other ship from Inuyasha, except MirSan lol. But I tend to write slower burn, so it may take a while to fully get there. ;) Also, following the Witcher tv series currently for inspiration, but I plan to start reading the books soon to get more of a background!
> 
> And finally: I've been able to write a lot over the holidays, but work is kicking in, as are three research projects, so I'm gonna try my best, but updates may come a bit slower. It's really a stress relief for me to write, but I'm also one of those rare extroverted writers, and I have to refill my people tank at least a few times a week. It will depend on the weather, too, because living in Northern USA, sometimes we get dumped on with snow and I end up writing for hours (literally perfect writing weather). Hopefully I will be able to keep everyone updated on the fic status on my tumblr page (same name as here on AO3). 
> 
> Oh! And one last reminder: read the tags. There is bloody fighting in this fic. And language. If that bothers you, then this may not be the fic for you.
> 
> Now, let's get on with this shit.

####  **Chapter 3: When the Party’s Over**

That had not been how he wanted that introduction to go. 

He had just been trying to make conversation. She had, after all, just come back from talking to Miroku, looking pissed as hell already. He could only imagine what the bard had said, but he was sure it had something to do with bearing his children, and it was disrespectful to say something like that to any woman, let alone a powerful sorceress.. 

Then she responded. And the way she called him  _ Witcher _ felt so much like the judgemental villagers, like the disdainful nobles. And to think he suspected that she might be the voice he heard outside the castle. And bringing up Blaviken? Sure, he probably shouldn’t have insulted her, but she was being so goddamn insufferable!

And then she turned around, and he thought she was going to say something snide, add another dagger in the heart of his pride (not that it meant that much, there were so many daggers there already), but instead there was a frightened look on her face. Her cheeks, which had been flush with side effects from the ale, were now drained of color. She was still pissed off, but there was fear behind her eyes.

“Something is coming. We have to evacuate the castle.  _ Now. _ ”

He cursed, and in an instant, he knew she was right. How had he missed it? There was something in the air, something more than the protective magic he had sensed upon entering the castle. Now there was another presence— much stronger, darker, sinister— outside of the village. They were hovering there, just out of reach. Testing the borders, lurking like predators encircling their prey. 

“Fuck,” he said, looking around at the merriment that continued throughout the banquet hall. “ _ Fuck _ .”

“Just hold on,” Kagome said, and she braced herself on the wall with her right hand. Her eyes closed and she pursed her lips, hiccuping slightly. Shit. She was still tipsy.

“What are you—“

“It’s an army. There are six hundred— no— a thousand soldiers,” she said, eyes still closed. “Three mages. One very strong. Five catapults. Dozens of carts of ammunition.” She opened her eyes. “We have to move. Now.”

He nodded. Social events were one thing. But a fight? Now that he could do.

“I want you to protect the Queen. They rest you can leave to me.”

“Like hell,” he said. 

She blinked. “What?”

“You’re the only mage in the village. You’re going to need backup. You go down, the rest of Cintra is fucked,” he said.

“I thought I told you I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah well don’t mind if I decide not to bet the lives of everyone in Cintra on that,” he said. Goddammit she was stubborn. He watched as she chewed on her cheek. He ignored the passing thought that it was an attractive look. 

“Fine. Queen first. Then evacuate everyone into the catacombs,” she said, storming off toward the front of the banquet hall on a singular mission. She was done wasting time talking strategy, and that was fine by him. He followed only a few footsteps behind, mulling over this turn of events. Because  _ of course _ what was supposed to be a simple banquet turned into an attack. Of course Miroku had, once again, lead him unwittingly into a disaster with low probability of safety and payment and great probability of loss of life. He had half a mind to find the bard and ask him if he was doing this on purpose, but at the moment, he had no idea where Miroku was. Probably hitting on the Princess if he had to guess. Besides, what he and Kagome had to do was slightly more important. 

The real question was, what were they dealing with? Was this encroaching army of Nilfgaard, or someone else? And regardless of who it was, why were they attacking? Mushin had hinted that this was not so unexpected, that the recent movement of Nilfgaardians was the whole reason for bringing in a mage in the first place, but why? He ran out of time to figure out the answer as they approached the Queen. She turned away from her discussion with one of the nobles and was instantly struck with confusion. 

Yeah, he guessed he and Kagome made a confusing pair to be approached by at a party. 

“My Queen,” Kagome said, in a clipped, hushed voice. “You must leave now, there is an army on the outskirts of the city—“

_ “What?” _

The Queen looked to Inuyasha as if for confirmation. He nodded. 

“Dark magic is in the air,” he said, and it was true. He wondered what exactly had made him so complacent before, so ignorant of the coming attack, because the scent of dark magic was strong and dense in the air in a way he had rarely sensed before. 

But the Queen almost looked put at ease by this revelation. Almost as if she had been expecting it. 

“Okay,” she said, standing up to meet his and Kagome’s eyeline. The noble beside her shot her a look of concern. “We must evacuate the citizens to the catacombs.”

“Right,” said Kagome, “But we also need to get  _ you _ to safety.”

“I am quite capable of protecting myself.”

Yeah, okay. Where had he heard  _ that  _ before?

“Look,” he said, “Maybe it’s not my place, cause you’re royalty or whatever, but there is an army here. Now. Thousand men. Three mages. And no offense to you or your security detail, but the only ones that stand a chance against these guys? You’re looking at them.” He paused, and he noticed Kagome’s eyes slide his way. “So let us do what we know how to do.”

“No offense taken, Witcher,” said the Queen, but her tone suggested otherwise. “But I am sovereign here, and my word is law. So when I say to leave me and get my people to the catacombs, I mean get my people to the catacombs,” she finished, enunciating the last part of her sentence so sharply that it stung. 

Kagome nodded and immediately took off.

“Wait, what the fuck?” He said as they left the Queen. “I thought your duty was to protect the Queen.”

“My duty is to serve the Queen,” she said, as if repeating rehearsed words. “And in this case, to trust her. Plus, the Queen is quite skilled in monster slaying herself, like her daughter.” 

“So what now?”

“We don’t want a panic, but we have to act fast, so—”

She never got the chance to finish her question, and there was no way they were going to avoid a panic anymore.

The front door to the banquet hall had been blown open as if by a gust of strong wind. Milliseconds later it was followed by the roar of an invading fire. In an instant, partygoers at the end of the banquet hall were engulfed in flame. Screams rang throughout the hall, glasses crashed, chairs screeched as they were thrown back and tossed aside for people to escape. What had just seconds before been a melting pot of jubilant nobles and common folk was now a sea of panic, men clamoring over their wives to get to the other side of the room, women tripping over their skirts. From behind the wave of flame came soldiers in thick black armor, swords drawn. They marched toward the front of the room in organized formation, slashing as they went, the largely undefended partygoers falling like stones. Inuyasha cursed and looked toward Kagome. The flames reflected in the pupils of her eyes. Then they both looked toward the Queen.

She was gone, possibly already in hiding. The thought was a small comfort, but it didn’t last long. 

Amongst the terror, Inuyasha heard a roar. He was not sure what he had expected, but it definitely wasn’t the Queen herself. She rode her daughter’s great cat, and held aloft an ornate sword that had seemingly appeared from nowhere. It was this sight that made Inuyasha snap back to reality. He had only paused for a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity.

Fight. There was a fight going on. And whether he liked Cintra or not, he was duty bound to defend it. 

For a second he wondered where Miroku was, worried the bard might not be able to defend himself, but he soothed his mind with the fact that he was probably with the princess, and she was more than capable of defending both of them. He unsheathed his Tetsusaiga and it grew to its usual, unfathomable size, and he saw Kagome’s eyes widen. Without a word, the two nodded at each other, and charged. 

The soldiers charged in standard rank and file formation, highly regimented and highly trained. The front line held up their shields and behind them were men with swords and spears, skewering from behind the protection of their peers.

Not on his watch.

He cried out, swung his Tetsusaiga in a great arc, blowing back the front defensive line in a single strike. Now he could get started. 

The men with the swords were no match for his Tetsusaiga, or his skill. He breathed, and with each breath he was in a new position. He dodged a stab from a spear then spun to catch the unsuspecting soldier behind him, his senses providing what was akin to an aerial view of the fight. He was surrounded, sure, but not by more than thirty or so soldiers. The real fight was surrounding Kagome, who had in fact, gone to defend her Queen. 

Around them was maybe a hundred or more soldiers, most armed with hooked weapons suited for more cunning warfare. Barbed whips lashed out toward them, but Kagome had held a protective barrier around the both of them. It was nothing like the magic he’d seen from other mages; her forcefield was bright pink, and sparks flew as it was met by iron and steel. Her eyes were closed and her hands held up before her. In any other circumstance it would be a motion for stop, but the soldiers kept going. 

“KOHAKU!”

He heard a scream to his left as he cut down two soldiers to his right. He turned and saw a strange, strange sight. Kohaku, the small boy, little prince of Cintra, was charging at his sister, her arms covered in slashes, blood freely flowing down the sides of her gown. He also used a barbed whip, but this was larger than the others used by the soldiers, more like a chain-sickle. He moved almost mechanically, as if possessed by something otherworldly. The princess had at some point found her boomerang and was now using it as a shield. What in the hell was going on? Kohaku struck again. The boy was performing with unbelievable strength, as his sister was knocked back by another blow, falling on her arm while her boomerang fell on top of her. Realization hit him like a physical blow.

He had been wondering when enemy magic would come into play. He could only assume this was it. The boy was, most certainly possessed. 

He swore and held up his sword defensively. Another clash. Another clang.

“Kagome,” he heard the Queen cry as the mage struggled to maintain a complete barrier, “My son!”

So she had noticed, too. 

This had to stop. It was one thing to send in an army unexpected to take down a foe. It was an entirely different matter to possess a brother to attack a sister.

It infuriated him. 

He snarled. “Any of you want to live through this you’ll hightail your asses outta here!” he said, and with only a moment’s pause, after realizing none of them had any intention of leaving, he brought down his sword hard and fast. Light shattered the dark, and the soldiers were blown apart by the sheer force of the strike. Pieces of metal flew outward from the blast, and specks of blood freckled his face.

He hated killing humans. But he had no choice now. He had to help the Cintrans, and  _ where the fuck _ was Miroku?

He looked over at his left again, where Sango and her brother had been. Sure enough, he had been right before. Miroku had abandoned his instrument and was now putting up a measly forcefield in front of him and the Princess. It was nowhere near as complete and powerful as Kagome’s, and it was barely deflecting Kohaku’s blows. Sango was on the ground, unconscious, a bloody wound staining the back of her gown. 

Kagome, however, had still not left the Queen as instructed. She was maintaining her barrier, but now with one hand, as she was trying to construct what looked like a  _ second _ barrier between the fleeing Cintrans and the soldiers. The soldiers and civilians were interspersed, but she seemed to be keeping the fire at bay from most of the people. Though a single blow had not been landed on her by the enemy, a drop of blood leaked from her nose as she screamed. 

Shit. This was not going well. And she was not going to last much longer.

What he really needed to do was find the mages behind it all. Kagome had mentioned that she felt three approaching right before the attack, and he had agreed. Where were they now?

One was somewhere just outside the castle, a red and powerful energy, like an angry magical tempest. This was behind the wind and the fire, he realized, which kept blazing through the banquet hall. It was strong, but not as strong as Kagome. Good.

The second presence he felt was somewhere in the castle itself; though it seemed impossible, it felt like it was coming from the rafters of the banquet hall. He looked up. Nothing. But he felt a ghostly presence hovering over them like a fog. This was the presence responsible for Kohaku’s possession, he thought. It had the same energy. LIke something dead and alive at the same time.

The final mage was not in the city.

Odd. He could have sworn that he had noticed it earlier.

But no. It was nowhere to be found. Now there were only two. Perhaps the bastard had decided that Cintra was going to be much easier to take than anticipated. Perhaps they were a coward and fled. Or perhaps something else was coming. Knowing next to nothing about the enemy, anything was possible. He gritted his teeth. He had to focus on the realities. There were two, here, right now. It was time to stop them.

Fending off the occasional attacker, as many of the soldiers had decided to steer clear of his behemoth of a sword, he ran toward the door. He could no longer see the pink barriers that had been up, and that meant Kagome’s power was fading fast. He had to go after the first presence, the one responsible for the fire and the gusts feeding it. He held up his sword as he charged out the door, cutting through the onslaught of weather and wind, the flames licking his knuckles and singeing his hair. He kept going. 

When he finally made it out of the castle, the wind and fire stopped abruptly. There at the entrance was a woman, eyes narrowed at him, as if she had not been expecting him.

“Well,” she said in a low voice. It was almost sensual, or maybe that was because the words she spoke came from behind slick red lips. “If it isn’t the Witcher Inuyasha. We weren’t expecting you.”

He continued to hold up his sword. No way in hell was he letting down his guard. “People usually don’t.”

“I’m afraid we don’t have time for your interference today. We have a royal family to murder and a kingdom to take.”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.”

She looked around, a smirk gracing her face. “You and whose army, exactly, is going to stop us.”

“Just me,” he said. “Now are you gonna tell me who ‘we’ is, or am I gonna have to tear it out of ya?”

“Please, by all means,” she said, holding out a metal fan in front of her, sinking into an attack position, “Try me.”

She moved with inhuman speed as she charged at him, twisting into the air, surrounded by gusts of wind that blew him back until he was flat on his ass. He held up Tetsusaiga in an attempt to block her, but it was not enough— sharp blades sliced through his clothing, searing his skin, blood trickling down his green attire. At least he had a reason to burn the damn clothes after this was all over. 

As soon as he was hit, he realized that his foe was already back where she started, pacing, looking at him as if she were admiring her work.

“Gotta say I expected more of a challenge,” she said. “Especially from the brother of Sesshomaru.”

“The fuck…” he started, using his sword to hoist him up, “... you know about Sesshomaru?”

“I know he would have stopped an attack like that without a shred of actual effort.”

“You got a name to go with that fucking attitude, lady?”

“Kagura,” she breathed. “Though I doubt you’ll live long enough to tell it to anyone else.” With that she charged at him again, spinning, wind gusts surrounding her. But he was prepared this time. He narrowed his eyes, focusing in on the center of the gust. Her fan, held aloft, was causing the wind, and in the wind itself were the blades, dancing in the air.

Okay. He could do something about that.

She was millisecond away from him when he shifted his feet and jumped up at the last second. Mid-air, he twisted and swung his heavy sword so fast toward the ground that it created turbulence from behind Kagura, who was still propelling herself toward the spot where he stood. That was the thing about momentum. Hard to redirect once you got going. 

Kagura was knocked off course and sent smack into a wall, bursting into stone and falling to the ground with the rubble. She had done a number on herself— her cheeks were cut all over by her own blades, and she sneered at him. 

He approached her, slowly, like stalking a cornered animal. 

“You’re gonna tell me right now why you’re here. What you want with Cintra.”

She laughed darkly. “Not yet I’m not.”

“I can make you tell me,” he said, lifting his sword an inch. “Not how I wanna do this, though.”

“You can try all you want,” she said, “but in the end it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Queen is dead,” she said, laughing a little. “Can’t you feel it?”

_ No. _

His jaw dropped. He  _ could _ feel it. Something had changed inside the castle while he was outside with Kagura. There was a shift in power, a sadness that now flooded his senses. Salty tears mixing with copper blood; it made him want to stuff his nose with cotton.

He couldn’t stand it.

A deep growl built in the bottom of his throat as he thought about what had happened inside. What had happened to Miroku, and the princess? Were they dead, too? Was it by the hand of the prince, or the second Nilfgaardian mage?

And what had happened to Kagome of Venderberg?

He had just met her, he recognized this, and their introduction had been less than ideal. But seeing her there, holding two large barriers, screaming, placing herself in between the danger and the people was one of the bravest damn things he had ever seen. She was more powerful than anyone in that room, and yet, instead of saving herself, she chose to protect a royal family she barely knew, and the Cintran people she had just met. Sure she was probably paid for her position, but she had gone above and beyond the call of duty. 

The fire inside roared. He could hear it. That unfortunately familiar smell of charred bodies was beginning to reach his nostrils, too.

“You could stay here and try to beat me, but you’ll have to chase me,” said Kagura. She sounded as if she was at a distance from him now, even though she had not moved. “Or you can escape with whatever is left of Cintra in the castle. Either way, my work is done.”

With that, she surrounded herself in a blaze of wind and fire, and within seconds, she was gone. There was a charred, stony pile where she had been sitting moments before. 

There was no fucking time to waste. 

He charged back into the castle, and the fire was still going, but without the wind to fuel it, it was burning itself out. The smell of burnt flesh and iron was damn near overpowering. He sheathed his Tetsusaiga and lifted a hand to his nose. On the ground were chunks of debris, both human and otherwise, discarded chairs, spilled red substances which could have been blood or wine, and discarded weapons of the dead. The sounds of moaning, of quiet weeping, of choking coughs filled the air as he searched for someone familiar in the fog. Anyone familiar. He even searched the faces of the dead.

“Inuyasha,” he heard someone croak, and to his left was Miroku. He was a wreck. His face was plastered with soot and there was a bloody wound somewhere on his head that had begun to drip down his ear. He was lying on his side, attempted to prop himself up with one arm.

“Fuck,” said Inuyasha, getting on his knees to help his friend. He lifted him into a sitting position and glanced at his head. Appeared to be a superficial scalp wound; the skin was cut but thanks to the bard’s short hair, he could tell the skull’s structure was intact. Still could use a medic, though, eventually. “What happened?”

“The princess,” Miroku rasped, and then frantically began to look around. When he looked behind him he sighed. “She’s there, thank the gods.” And sure enough, when Inuyasha looked behind Miroku, he saw the princess in the same state she had been before, unconscious and wounded. “I checked her pulse, she’s ok, but I need to go heal her before I do anything else.”

“No offense Miroku, but even when you’re not injured, you can’t heal,”

“I’ve got to try,” he said, scooting himself around and towards the princess.

“We’ve got to get out of here first,” he glanced toward the door, satisfied that no soldiers were coming through. “Do you think you can walk?”

Miroku nodded.

“Good. I’ll be back here in a minute. There’s someone else I’ve got to find.”

“Who?”

But Inuyasha didn’t answer. He stood back up and headed deeper into the banquet hall, scanning the ground for any signs of life. It wasn’t until he reached the far left corner of the room that he spotted the person he was looking for. Her blue velvet dress was spattered with all sorts of stains, torn in a few places, but mostly she was unharmed. Her long dark hair fell in front of her face as she knelt over someone who, upon closer inspection, looked just like the Queen. The closer he got, the more he could hear the quiet sobs belonging to the mage. He had to remind himself that they had just met, that it would be highly unusual to run over to her and embrace her, no matter how badly he wanted to. 

“She r—an out from behind the barrier,” Kagome said, softly. She had not looked up, but she clearly knew he was there. Her words hitched on every sob. “She ch—arged a whole platoon trying to get to K—ohaku. I couldn’t do it.” She tilted her head up and met his eyes. Tears mixed with the dried blood from her nose, painting her face in textures and streaks. Her eyes were electrified by her tears, bluer than anything he’d ever seen in his entire life, bluer than the clearest water off the Southern shore. Sadness rolled off of her in waves. She looked down at her hands, dried blood on her palms. 

“I couldn’t protect her.”

He felt like shit. Like an absolute failure. Here he was, the one that told her she wasn’t good enough, and despite her protests, the proof was provided in the shape of the dead Queen at his feet. Despite her heroics, here were his words, shoved in her face.

“Kagome,” he said. He didn’t know what to say after that.

So instead he kneeled down on the other side of the Queen, holding her gaze. She looked so lost. Like a child.

“We have to go,” he finally said. 

“I can’t just leave her.”

“The princess is alive,” he said, and hope flickered on her face. “If there is any chance for the Houko name to survive, we have to get her somewhere safe, and we have to heal her. It’s what the Queen would want.”

She nodded. He stood up, but before Kagome joined him, she took her fingers and closed the Queen’s open, unseeing eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He was sorry, too. He was sorry and sad and tired and aching.

But most of all, he was fucking  _ mad. _

* * *

Together, he, Miroku, and Kagome decided it would be better if they set the castle aflame. After making sure the castle was empty of all living souls, it was decided that it would be easier for townsfolk and harder for scavengers if everything were burned. Not to mention Nilfgaard, who had yet to come back, but he knew it was only a matter of time. After all, Kagura had mentioned that they were there ‘take the kingdom’, among other unnamed goals. It was likely that the sorceress and her accomplice had run off to notify their boss, the third mage, of their success. It would be a bit harder to take power without the resources of the castle. So Kagome and Miroku stoked the fire, and let the place burn. 

They all wanted to include Sango in the decision, but there was no time. The princess was carried out by one of the only other survivors, the large cat Kirara, who seemed just as devastated as the rest of them. Kagome had laid healing hands on Sango to assess the damage, and after ruling out severe head trauma, stated that it was better to let her rest for the time being. Better they get to a safe distance from the city before trying to make sense of what had just happened.

They walked in silence out of the city gates, flame burning bright in the remaining night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: 
> 
> "When she woke up the next morning, she noticed two things:
> 
> One: someone had put a thick, wool blanket on top of her. Where this blanket had come from, she had no idea, but it was warm, which was helpful, and soft, which was a miracle.
> 
> And two: there was a giant creature with large blue eyes staring at her from about one foot above her face. "


	4. Strange Bedfellows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just about the only thing we can thank this damn virus for is the plethora of writing, and time in which to write.
> 
> Thank you everyone for the comments. They are literally the only reason I still feel inspired to write this. As much as I actually love it, life has been pretty crazy and tends to demand more of my attention than fun pursuits like writing. It's nice to come back to something that brings joy.
> 
> Please enjoy this unedited, un-beta'd product of my brain on diet coke, whiskey, and gummy bears. Oh yeah. Livin like a rockstar.

####  Chapter 4: Strange Bedfellows

“You know, there are much easier ways to start a fire.”

“Yeah? Don’t see you helping, so shut up and butt out.”

The boys were bickering again. 

After the battle, there was about a day of near silence. Shifted glances and murmured instructions were about all they were willing to share for the time being. Kagome herself knew deep down she was still in shock, and she spent most of her time tending to Sango. Upon waking, the princess seemed to remember instantly what had happened, and she, too, had fallen silent. They made a strange cohort that day, limping through the forest. Still, even though they barely knew each other, Kagome felt they were already bonded by something almost as strong as blood— bloodshed. 

But all silences end. 

Inuyasha and Miroku had been snipping at each other for the better half of an hour. It was almost a full day since the banquet started, and as night approached, and as they began to lose all semblance of energy, the temperature began to drop. Inuyasha toiled away on a pile of sticks, getting increasingly frustrated, while Miroku sulked and made passive-aggressive suggestions. This may have been due to the fact that Inuyasha told Miroku his singing voice was like ‘a pie with no filling’. Regardless of why it was happening, Kagome was getting sick of it.

“Hey! You two. Married couple,” she said from her seat underneath a large oak tree. “Maybe try working together? Apologize? Communicate?”

“I don’t see you pitchin in!” Inuyasha shouted.

“That’s because I spent most of my energy working on Sango and the rest of it on this stupid conversation!”

He was absolutely  _ infuriating _ . She had no idea how Inuyasha still had the energy to be mad after all that had happened, but there he was, pouting. She supposed he could still be mad about what she had said back at the banquet before everything went to hell, but she wasn’t so sure. The moment trouble started, it was like they had each other’s backs, working as a team. She felt like she had an ally. Now she felt like she had a child that needed a nap. Or maybe he was just mad about the battle itself

Personally, she was still trying not to think about it. She had washed the blood off of her hands, but even when she closed her eyes, she could still feel its slickness on her fingers. She could hear the Queen’s final scream. She could see the dead eyes of the Queen’s son, intent on annihilation of everything the boy had once loved. It was haunting and evil in every way she’d ever been taught to fear.

She was really, really trying not to think about it.

It was true, though, that she had spent all of her energy. Sango had been in particularly bad shape following the fight, and Kagome couldn’t imagine what the princess was going through. To have lost her entire family in one day would be… well she just didn’t know if she’d be able to take it. The thought alone made her heart squeeze in a vice grip of sorrow that almost took her breath away.

Having gone seemingly numb, Sango was now resting her head on her giant cat Kirara and staring blankly into space. She clearly had no interest in mediating two men who, like fully grown adults, kept glaring at each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking. 

Inuyasha continued to fumble with the sticks for a few minutes before, with a growl and a dramatic show of throwing up his hands, giving up on the fire.

“We don’t need a damn fire anyway,” he said. “What we need is to keep moving.”

“Inuyasha,” said Miroku, earning him an instant scowl from the Witcher. “There is no way the princess can travel right now. None of us have eaten since yesterday. Night is coming. And Kagome and I need to rest. We don’t heal as fast as Witchers do.”

“Let’s get one thing straight, bard,” Inuyasha said, scathing. His shoulders were tense. “None of us feel like moving right now, but if we don’t get moving soon, something will find us, either Nilfgaard, or something stronger than I don’t want to take on right now.”

Kagome sighed. He didn’t get it, did he? “We won’t be useful  _ at all _ if we don’t rest. Don’t be so anxious. I mustered up a couple of protective barriers, which I am also maintaining. You’re welcome.”

“If it would help ease your nerves,” said MIroku, “I could entertain you with a song.”

“Fuck no.”

“There once was a Witchery-witch, who was acting like kind of a bitch, he—”

Miroku didn’t get to finish his little jingle before being tackled head on by Inuyasha. How either one of them had this much energy, she had no idea, but the two were attempting to wrestle each other to the ground. Kagome had a feeling Inuyasha was holding back— with those muscles he could kill a man if he wasn’t careful— not that she was looking at his muscles, of course not—

Boys!” said Kagome, and they stopped instantly, frozen in position, realizing they had an audience. “How old are you?” They looked at each other. Inuyasha let go of the grip he had on Miroku’s shirt and Miroku fell backward. “And, while we’re at it, exactly how long have you known each other? I’ve never seen people fight like this after just meeting.”

Miroku stood up and carefully dusted off his oversized tan shirt and brown trousers. They had stolen some more appropriate clothes on their way out of the territory, but the men’s clothes had been a bit big on Miroku. Inuyasha, however, had filled out a black shirt and pants perfectly. 

“Well, if you care to hear it, it’s quite the tale.”

“Keh, the mage ain’t interested in your stories, Miroku,” said Inuyasha

“I have a name, you know!” Kagome said, indignant. “And it’s Kagome. Ka-go-me. Not that hard!”

“Hm,” Inuyasha responded and fell back onto the grass, hands behind his head. Pouting.

Miroku walked over to where Inuyasha had been working on the fire. He knelt down on one knee and held his hands over the pile of wood. A small flame bloomed in the center and caught the sticks almost instantly. The bard smirked a bit to himself, then sat down fully in front of the small fire. He rubbed his hands and held them up to the heat.

What a strange man. Pensive, doting, and a full-on pervert, all at once. Miroku was many things, Kagome noticed, but most of it was on the surface. Detectable without magic.

Inuyasha on the other hand was something different. She watched him at a distance as he stared up at the encroaching night, hands tucked behind his head, scraggly unwashed hair weaving into the grass below. His ears twitched at the twilight forest sounds, but he never once turned to look away from the sky. Unlike Miroku, this man was a bit more of a mystery to her. Monster hunter, but clearly genetically altered himself. On the surface was annoyance and anger, but she could sense a deep pain in him, something borne of cruelty and loss. What horrible things had he undergone to become what he was? And why did it turn him into this— a monster hunter and, from what she could tell, an actual  _ protector _ of people— rather than a spiteful demon? Why did she feel so drawn to him, and yet, their personalities seemed to create so much friction?

And why had she seen him in her memories?

She closed her eyes for a moment. That was a hole she was not ready to dig. The surface of her mind would collapse if she did. Now, she needed rest and recuperation, especially if she ever wanted to regain her strength. She opened her eyes and turned to look at Sango. Kagome knew she had failed Cintra, but she would not fail the princess. 

“Princess,” said Kagome, feeling as though she had neglected her self-imposed charge, “If you’re cold you can come sit with us by the fire.”

“I’m just Sango, now,” she responded in a small voice. She did not move from her position curled up next to Kirara, nor did she look in their direction. “I’m not a princess of anything anymore.”

Kagome and Miroku traded concerned looks. Perhaps the conversation was done for the night.

* * *

Sleep did not come easily. But when it came for her, it buried her consciousness so deep that all was, blissfully, void.

* * *

When she woke up the next morning, she noticed two things:

One: someone had put a thick, wool blanket on top of her. Where this blanket had come from, she had no idea, but it was warm, which was helpful, and soft, which was a miracle.

And two: there was a giant creature with large blue eyes staring at her from about one foot above her face. 

She and the being both screamed as it jumped back, crawling backwards until it hit a tree.

And it was  _ huge _ . 

“What?!” she heard a panicked voice from behind her. “What’s going on?!”

She’d never seen anything like it in size, aside from maybe a kikimora. Bulbous blue eyes protruded off the sides of a long, tan head, its jaw stretched to almost horse-like proportions. It wore simple blue robes and carried a large wicker basket, full of various greenery, most of which Kagome recognized but couldn’t place at the moment. It breathed heavily as if she had given him a shock.

Which- was that even possible?

The thing was  _ massive _ , the size of a small house at least, but it cowered under the tree and shook like a small dog. Like she was going to harm it in some way. Which, if it had intended to harm her, she’d have no trouble doing. But this was clearly no bloodthirsty monster. 

She then heard a low growl behind her, and she turned around. Closer than he had been when they had fallen asleep, Inuyasha was now only a few feet behind her, hand on his sheathed sword. When had he gotten so close?

“Who are you?” said Inuyasha, and Kagome noticed Miroku and Sango waking up behind him.

“Please, I only meant to help,” said the pitiful creature in a small, shy voice. Male, though, if she had to bet on it. 

“You’re not answering the question.”

“My name is Jinenji. I saw the miss lying cold in the grass so I covered her with a blanket.”

That solved that mystery. “But why were you leaning over me like that?” she asked. 

Inuyasha sputtered. “He  _ what _ ?!”

“Please, forgive me!” said Jinenji. “I only noticed the miss was weak, and the rest of you were injured. I picked some herbs out in the woods and I thought— I— I better go.” He was looking pointedly at Inuyasha, who was growling even louder. 

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” said Inuyasha.

“Wait, no!” Kagome interjected, reaching out. The poor thing was terrified, and had probably just been curious. Besides, she could probably use some of the herbs to heal some of Sango’s nagging scars. 

“ _ No _ ?” said Inuyasha, incredulous. 

“He meant no harm,” replied Kagome. Inuyasha remained slack-jawed beside her. She rolled her eyes and turned to Jinenji. “That was really kind, what you offered. And this blanket was very warm. I appreciate it.”

The creature seemed to shrink a little less. His features were so strange, like nothing she’d ever seen before. He’d woken them up midmorning on what was apparently a sunny day, the sunlight filtering through the leaves of the forest and speckling Jinenji’s tanned skin.

“Kagome.” She hadn’t been paying attention, but apparently her and Jinenji’s screams had woken everyone up, because Miroku was suddenly beside Inuyasha, and Sango was up and leaning on a transformed Kirara. Miroku was speaking to her now with a careful logic she had not seen before. “We must consider where we are, and what just happened.” Right. The battle. She’d almost allowed herself to push it out of her mind. “We cannot trust anyone we meet.”

“Right,” said Inuyasha.

“I was just thanking him,” she said. Jinenji’s wide eyes were watching them with veiled curiosity. “Say, Jinenji, right? You said you had herbs? Do you mind if I look at them?”

He shook his head and began to get out of his crouched position, only to shrink back as Inuyasha surged forward. It was almost comical— the thing was easily three times Inuyasha’s size, but was absolutely dumbstruck with terror. Miroku held onto the back of his friend’s shirt.

“What the fuck, Miroku?!”

“Do you know who I am?” said a weak voice from behind Kagome, directed at Jinenji. She turned to her other side and saw Sango limping towards them. Her leg was injured, but her spine was held straight and proud, and her face was masked with careful control. There was no mistaking that she was royal, even wearing the pale pink dress and oversized wool coat they’d stolen. Kirara followed close to her, ready to act as a crutch if needed. 

“Yes,” responded Jinenji, and he moved his long limbs into a kneeling position. “Princess. I saw the direction of the castle up in flames, and I feared the worst. I am glad you are safe.”

“Thank you,” she said. Sango then turned to the rest of them. “I am familiar with this man. He and his mother run a farm and own a garden not far from the castle. It’s my brother’s favorite—” she paused “— was his favorite place to pick blueberries.”

“Yes, Prince Kohaku!” said Jinenji. “Is he—” He seemed to stop himself before asking the obvious, if incredibly painful question. Sango, to her credit, did not cry or stutter. She would have looked unaffected to most of the world, but Kagome caught her quick intake of breath at the question.

“Princess— Sango,” Miroku said, gentle, still holding onto the back of Inuyasha’s shirt. “Can we trust this… man?”

She nodded and both men relaxed. 

“Very well,” said Kagome, who still eyed the princess with careful concern. “If so, then I’d love to look at those herbs, Jinenji.”

“If you have a place to stay,” added Miroku, “We could use that too. Just for tonight.”

Jinenji nodded and stood up to his full size. This time, both Miroku and Inuyasha stepped back a bit. 

“Of course. My mother and I will help you. It is half a day’s journey. It will be dark when we get there. ”

Kagome exhaled a breath she didn’t know she was holding. A place to stay sounded wonderful, even if only for a night. But it also sounded a little too good to be true.

* * *

Jinenji’s mother was about one sixth his size but spoke with about ten times his volume. 

“But there’s four of ‘em!”

  
“Ma,” said Jinenji, soft, and a little afraid, “They’ve got nowhere to go.”

“Ma?” Miroku wondered aloud. They were all thinking it— how did a man that size come from a woman… well…  _ that _ size? Something wasn’t being said, but it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be saved for later.

“Son, do you see enough room for five humans, a cat demon, and yourself?”

The woman placed her hands on her hips matter-of-factly. She was old and weathered, like the wooden shack they were all currently crammed in, but she had a fire in her spirit. Kagome could feel it. Most women that survived to this age in her time had it; Kaede had it. That fire was what it took to survive as a woman in the world. The frayed edges of her work robe might as well have been testaments to her strength and resilience. The grime under her nails and on her feet demonstrated her closeness with an even greater power: the earth. Kagome couldn’t help but respect it.

And the woman was right-- there was no way they were all going to fit in that hut.

“Ma,” he said even softer, “The Princess is here.”

The old woman’s eyes widened and scanned their faces, landing finally on Sango’s.

“I should have known,” said Jinenji’s mother. “That’s Kirara, isn’t it?”

Sango nodded, her face a practiced neutral.

“Damn,” said the woman. “When we saw the fire last night, I feared the worst.” The woman maneuvered her way in the cramped cabin to grab some blankets. “Well, I can fit a few of yah in here, but somebody’s gonna have to stay outside.”

She glanced at the group’s faces. Immediately, Inuyasha nodded and headed out the cloth door of the hut. He was halfway over the threshold when Kagome’s brain did something funny— it stuttered almost— like it was having trouble processing what was happening. 

“Hang on,” she said, and he stopped. “Why do you have to sleep outside?”

He didn’t turn, still paused in the doorway. After a beat of silence, Miroku cleared his throat. 

“He prefers it that way most of the time, Lady Kagome. He’s been that way since we met.”

Well that was just unacceptable at the moment. For some odd, undefinable reason. Maybe she was tired. 

“Someone should stay out there with him, then,” she said, turning to Jinenji and his mother to explain. “We just survived an attack. We’re not fully healed, even. None of us are safe to be on our own right now.”  
“Keh, I’m _fine_ ,” said Inuyasha, finally, still not looking at any of them. “I’m better off on my own.”

“Not right now you’re not!”

“And what’s it to you, wench?” he said, spinning around. He looked like he was about to confront her with his impending stature, but the cabin was so small, he ended up getting very close in a sense that was more awkward than imposing. 

“You ain’t the boss of me.”

_ So _ immature. “Would you just listen to reason?”

“He’s not very good at that,” mumbled Miroku in a tone that was clearly meant to go unheard. Inuyasha was so incensed he must have missed it.

“I like bein’ alone! You know fuck all about me, you’ve known me for what, a day? And all the sudden you’re tellin me what to do? I wanna be alone! What do you want from me?”

“Some sense of self preservation would be nice!”

“Enough!” said Jinenji’s mother, growling under her breath. “You say you’ve known each other for a day? You sure you ain’t married?”

M-married?

She and Inuyasha clammed up fast, and as the heat of their words wore off, she sensed another heat. Body heat. He was so close he was practically radiating. He was so warm he was a fire.

Before she could breathe another breath he skittered back to the door as fast as he could.

“Keh,” he scoffed. “Married. As if that would ever happen.”

She looked pointedly at the ground and bit her tongue. She wasn’t going to say anything she might regret later. What felt like hours passed in a matter of seconds. Look at the ground, she told herself. Don’t think about the fact that he smelled like sweat and pine. That was a wholly unattractive scent anyway. Yes, that lie would do just fine.

“The mage makes a good point,” Jinenji’s mother said after a perceived eternity. She clapped her ginormous son on the back and he jumped. “My son will stay outside with you, Witcher, as extra protection around the cabin and—”

“For fuck’s sake, I don’t need protection!”

“— to give us some space to breathe here in this cabin,” she finished, narrowing her eyes at Inuyasha. “Seems you all have some important decisions to make in the morning, so rest up.” She placed some thick wool blankets into Jinenji’s arms and gently pushed him toward the door. He crouched through the doorway and followed Inuyasha into the night. She then proceeded to grab the rest of them blankets, handing them each something scratchy but warm, old but comforting. Hers was a purple quilt with some sort of woolen batting in the center. Made by hand, made with care.

Miroku sat atop his blanket and patted the seat next to him. “Ladies, if any of you find yourselves feeling cold tonight, I’d be glad to—”

“Bard,” said Sango, curling up with Kirara, “Touch me and it will be the last thing you do in this lifetime.”

“Noted.”

* * *

This time, covered by the tender warmth of the quilt, she dreamed. 

She dreamed of Aretuza. Of training with the other young girls, of the constant feelings of inadequacy but camaraderie, of the fears of being turned into an eel (which she’d never really thought was true, but children will fear just about anything), and staying up late with cups of tea and stories from their home towns. It was tinged with nostalgia, a sense of longing for the past, or at least, the way the past made her feel. 

Then the dream shifted.

She was there but with Sango and Miroku and Jinenji, and they kept getting the same spell wrong again and again, growing frustration evident on their faces. Kaede became fed up, and one by one, she turned them all into eels. Plop, plop, plop, into the water. Kagome tried to scream, but Kaede had silenced her with a wave of her hand. She could only watch as they swam below the surface of the pool in Tor Lara, watching the backlight glint off of their slimy bodies as they writhed. 

Without thinking, in full garb, she jumped in after them. She dived down deep to follow them, so deep she thought she’d stop breathing, but no, she found she  _ could _ breathe. Underwater. She knew this wasn’t possible, couldn’t happen, so she swam in the direction she thought was up. She finally reached the surface again, only to find that she was no longer in Tor Lara, but in the middle of an endless ocean. No land in sight for miles, whichever way she turned. Night hanging over her in the sky. Her head just above the surface of the shining water, reflecting stars and bright moonlight. She felt a sense of panic set in. How would she get out of this? How would she survive?

Then came the bodies.

Floating up from underneath her, up from the dead floor of the sea, were bodies. The first few she did not know; nameless, faceless ghosts. Then came the body of the Queen, still in her royal garb. The next was the prince, Kohaku, eyes wide and unseeing. The next two were blurry at first— she could only really see them when they reached the surface.

The faces belonged to her brother and her mother.

She felt the urge to scream again, or to swim away, but something was holding her, something was crushing her chest. Strong arms wrapped around her. Strong arms that were meant to hold. Or meant to kill.

The smell of sweat and pine was strong. They began to sink back into the water. She felt hot breath on her ear as she struggled to break free, to swim. Then to breathe.

_ “Fucking joke,” _ Inuyasha whispered.

She woke up gasping for air.

Why was she always waking up gasping for air?

She sat up for a moment, attempting to catch her breath. Mages always had strange dreams; there was no real consensus on why, or what they meant, but according to some magical researchers, they were a reflection of the brain attempting to sort out memory from premonition. As if the mage’s mind couldn’t keep it all straight, so in dreams, there was a sort of filing process that started with a big dump of information. Her dreams were those information dumps. But when she and her roommates would talk about their dreams, hers were always the strangest, the most bizarre. She would recount her dreams and get looks of concern, not looks of bemusement. It got so bad that she stopped telling them her true dreams and started making them up so they’d be more palatable. Kaede thought it had something to do with her forgotten memories. They didn’t happen every night, thank the gods, but they did happen. And when they did, she always felt a little disoriented. 

As her eyes adjusted to the night she scanned the room. Miroku had been true to his word, as he was still asleep on his own quilt. Jinenji’s mother was there, too, huddled in the corner, shivering a bit. She was probably used to the heat her son threw off. Then there was the blanket where Sango was supposed to be.

It was empty. 

Her heart sank in her chest. Where had the princess gone? Had she been kidnapped? Killed? Had she left to fight Nilfgaard on her own? Surely even in the midst of grief she wouldn’t be so rash.

It was then that she heard the faintest of voices from outside.

“Like hell,” said one, deeper and gruff. Inuyasha. 

_“Fucking joke,”_ _Inuyasha whispered._ She shuddered.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Witcher. I’m the Princess of Cintra. I can handle myself.”

“No offense, but you’re not the princess of Cintra anymore. You’re the princess of ashes. And you’re gonna join em if you leave right now and confront Nilfgaard on your own.”

Kagome inched toward the doorway. The cloth that hung in place of a door fluttered across the threshold, the moon full and bright. She placed a hand on the wooden doorframe and continued to listen, readying herself to act if need be. 

She didn’t want to use force to make Sango stay. But her duty was to protect Cintra, and right now, Sango was the only part of it left. She’d do that duty if it killed her.

“Do you know nothing of honor?” Sango said, almost hissing. She was the only one still trying to keep quiet. “I failed my family. I failed to protect them, to protect my country. I must avenge them, I have to try. Even if I die doing so.” Kirara mewed as if to sadly agree.

From her place at the doorframe, just beyond the fluttering cloth, about 20 yards away, she could see the hulking body of Jinenji, who had apparently also woken up.

“Fuck honor,” Inuyasha said. He was decidedly  _ not _ trying to be quiet. “Fuck honor, and fuck destiny. You really think your family would want you to throw your life away like that? Is that what your brother would have wanted?”

Silence. Then, softer than the other two, Jinenji spoke.

“Princess. I knew your brother. He loved you.”

“He’s dead,” Sango sobbed.

“He wouldn’t want you to be the same,” Jinenji’s soft voice answered. 

Kagome heard heavy, grief-laden sobs from behind her post. The dam had finally broken. The Princess was ready to cry. 

Kagome wondered to herself what she should do. Should she go comfort the girl? It wasn’t like they knew each other very well. It would come off as hollow, wouldn’t it? A sudden hug coming from an acquaintance that was supposed to be asleep? Would Sango have felt immediate shame, waking up the rest of them with her attempt to leave? Kagome tried to put herself in the princess’s shoes. How would she have felt, losing everything, tossed into a group of strange bedfellows, in her homeland but no longer home?

No, Kagome thought. The only thing Sango probably wanted was to see her little brother’s face again. To hear her mother’s words. To watch her brother smile. 

Kagome bit her lip, wondering what to do.

“I think they’ve got it covered,” whispered a voice from inside the cabin. Kagome almost jumped. Suddenly across from her, on the other side of the threshold peeking outside, was Miroku. Not leering, not copping a feel. Just sad. Like the rest of them.

Kagome peered out of the doorway to see what he was seeing. Kirara was in full demon form, bright white fur shining in the moonlight, nuzzling her master. Jinenji placed a hand on her shoulder— more like a few fingers, really— in a gesture of support. And Inuyasha had, contrary to what she thought him capable of, fully embraced the princess, letting her cry into his shoulder. Even from so far away, she could tell his expression was pained. 

What a strange group of companions she had found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry- we get to see much more of Jinenji/InuYasha bonding in the next chapter, and what role Jinenji plays here.
> 
> Up next:
> 
> "He thought he was being straightforward enough. Nothing subtle about volunteering to stay outside. Sure he had other motives— to protect the humans inside, for one. And Miroku was right, he liked staying outside. Especially alone. It gave him a chance to think. To process what had happened, and what needed to happen next, which was especially important right now.
> 
> So why had Kagome of Vengerberg looked so panicked when he began to walk out?"


	5. Little Talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I continue to be blown away by the feedback I've gotten from everyone. You are all so kind and I wish I had time to go through and answer questions and comments individually. I'm afraid my life is a little hectic right now, but hey, at least I'm getting chapters out?
> 
> As for how much of the Witcher will be in the story, and vice versa, I will say this: I am WAY more familiar with Inuyasha than the Witcher. This is because I've been watching Inuyasha since I was probably 11 or 12 (let's just say I'm not near that age anymore). I just picked up the Witcher earlier this year. BUT I am starting to read the books to try and familiarize myself more with the world, and I'm using handy dandy maps and fan wikis to get more acquainted. Here's to hoping I don't screw it up too much!
> 
> Seriously, I love you all. Stay safe. Stay healthy. Do your self care. Breathe.

Chapter 5: Little Talks

What didn’t that damn mage understand about the fact that he wanted to be alone?

He thought he was being straightforward enough. Nothing subtle about volunteering to stay outside. Sure he had other motives— to protect the humans inside, for one. And Miroku was right, he _liked_ staying outside. Especially alone. It gave him a chance to think. To process what had happened, and what needed to happen next, which was especially important right now.

So why had Kagome of Vengerberg looked so panicked when he began to walk out?

She’d looked so pained when he said he was going to leave, but what did she know? He wanted to get in her face, to show her he was perfectly fine and capable of sleeping outside by himself, goddammit, but they’d gotten so close in that cramped cabin. He could feel her chest expand against his as she breathed heavily. Up close, her cheeks flushed with anger, her blue eyes locked with his. She’d smelled so strongly of lilac and gooseberries. He’d smelled the scent before, but he couldn’t quite  place it. It made him feel things. Warm things. Maybe even hot things.

He had to get out of that fucking hut.

Unfortunately, his escape was not made alone. Soon after he left, Jinenji followed, crouching to get through the sizable doorway. It wasn’t that he disliked the giant man, if that’s what Jinenji was. It wouldn’t have mattered if Jinenji was a silent, invisible ghost. He wanted to be alone. It had been far too long since he’d been alone. 

Thankfully, Jinenji wasn’t the type for talking. There were a few trees across the clearing next to the cabin-- they each picked one, and curled up underneath it. 

For a while, that was it. Quiet, except for the crickets in the field and the occasional bird call. The moonlight was playing on the grass. It was a bright full moon. He made a mental note of the date and exhaled. He should be done with this little caper in the next week, at most. Plenty of time to isolate before the new moon.

After a while, he got the distinct feeling that he was being watched. He turned to look at Jinenji, who was still hunched under his tree about ten yards away. In the bright night, the creature’s eyes shone like glowing orbs, reflecting the light from the moon. They were watching him.

“What.” Inuyasha said.

“What was it like,” the giant man said, “to pass the Trial of Grasses?” 

The Trial of Grasses?

It was like a cold bucket of water being dumped over his head.

“How do you know about that?”

Jinenji shifted uncomfortably. 

“I, too, endured it. Part of it.”

And then it all made a little more sense. The physical deformity, the knowledge of herbs, the fear. Jinenji had been put through the same trials Inuyasha himself had endured, only something had gone wrong. 

“I thought all the boys that didn’t change died,” he said. 

“I did change,” Jinenji answered. “Not in the way they expected. I was afraid. Took some additional herbs beforehand Ma had told me about. They never knew what went wrong,” he said, solemn. “When I was near death they cast me out. Threw me off of the cliffs at Roggeveen. Thought I was too big to swim. I was rescued by a passing vessel and found my way home to Ma.”

“That must have been… painful,” Inuyasha said quietly. It was an understatement. It must have hurt worse than death. The boys that had survived had dealt with fevers, seizures, and torments he never wanted to face again. The boys that died, though, had it even worse— their deaths were agonizing, prolonged, brutal. He’d watched one boy claw himself to death with his own hands. What Jinenji suffered must have been…

“Terrible. It was, yes,” Jinenji said. “There are worse things, though.”

“Keh. Like what?”

“Like what happened to the Princess.To lose family is another kind of torment. Another kind of death.”

Inuyasha looked toward the cabin. All was quiet.

“I wouldn’t know,” he lied.

“We all do one day, Ma always says. She said it a lot when Pa died.”

Inuyasha didn’t really know how to respond to that. Instead he kept quiet for a moment. He thought. He’d never answered Jinenji’s original question.

“Passing the trials was like waking up from a dream,” he said quietly. “You realize how limited your senses were before. You have a new body and a new function in the world, I guess. Purpose. People never let you forget it, either.” He looked down at his claws. It was one of the first things that he noticed had changed when he awoke from the healing slumber after the trial, the long claws that had replaced his blunt fingernails. 

Jinenji nodded, pausing for a moment. He took his time to think before he spoke; Inuyasha respected that, even envied it a little. He had the tendency of speaking before thinking. 

“Our final forms may be different, but I imagine we both share the pain of judgement from the humans. How they look down upon us.” Jinenji said. His words were devoid of anger, though. They were just sad. 

“Keh. Useless, almost all of them. They call you things like demon, like mutant, and then beg for your help when something big and scary comes along,” he laughed humorlessly. “Not realizing how fucked they’d be if they didn’t have enough coin to get in my good graces.”

Jinenji peered at him curiously. “Is that all it is for you? Coin?”

“Why else would I help a human? You said it yourself— they judge us, look down upon us. Fucking assholes.”

“And yet, you came here with three humans.”

Right. There was that.

Inuyasha coughed. “That’s different. The bard owes me money.”

Jinenji stared at Inuyasha like he knew the truth. Something about those giant eyes peered into his soul, or at least, that’s what it felt like. After a moment, Jinenji shrugged, and they returned to their collaborative silence. 

About half an hour later, just as he was beginning to feel sleep overcome him, a twig snapped. Both Inuyasha and Jinenji’s eyes snapped awake and heads swiveled to the center of the clearing.

It was the princess and the cat demon.

* * *

He had the unpleasant task of talking the princess out of leaving the group and attacking Nilfgaard on her own. He understood the urge. He knew it would always linger, but would eventually pass. So he let her cry it out.

He wished someone had done the same for him, long ago.

* * *

The next morning, the humans were more or less rested enough to continue moving on. They knew they had to get out of Cintran territory, and fast, but their final destination wasn’t set in stone yet. For now, they decided to head North, as far in the opposite direction of the Southern menace of Nilfgaard as possible. 

“I can’t ask you all to go with me,” said Sango, tying a green sash around new pale pink and nondescript robes given to her by Jinenji’s mother. “I’ve already leaned too much on your kindness. Besides, Kirara will be with me.” The cat demon, now in the form of a tiny cat with the same distinct black markings, mewed in support.

“You don’t have to ask me, Sango,” said Kagome, folding the blankets they’d borrowed in the cabin. “You know I’m with you.” She’d pulled her hair back and tied it with some fabric she’d ripped off her velvet blue dress that had not survived the battle. She was now in some sort of short tan tunic over brown leggings and some utilitarian boots- again, borrowed, or rather gifted to her, by Jinenji’s mother. She clearly had more energy than she had the day before; a spark was in her eyes that Inuyasha had not seen since the night they met.

How was that only two days ago? It felt like a year ago. It was only supposed to be a temporary job with good coin, a payment which he had almost forgotten never came to fruition. He’d needed that coin, dammit. Yet another job finished with empty pockets, and worse, now he felt almost a certain responsibility for these humans. He was, after all, one of the reasons they were all still alive and not killed by the likes of that Kagura witch and the other Nilfgaardian scum. But even beyond that, when he thought about leaving them to their own defenses, there was something like a drop in his stomach. Like there was some sort of pull to this group of humans that he could not ignore. 

Well, at least one of them he could not ignore. He could ignore the bard pretty well. And the princess was certainly beautiful and capable, but he felt respect for her as a warrior more than anything else. 

The mage was something else entirely. He didn’t know what to think about her, but he knew he did not want to watch her leave, at least not until he figured out what the hell he was feeling. He’d never been good at deciphering anyone’s feelings, let alone his own, but he’d be damned if he didn’t figure this woman out. Did he hate her? Did he respect her? Did he want to fuck her? Did he want something more? Her smell, the flush of her cheeks, her ferocity in the face of overwhelmingly bad odds, her loyalty. 

God dammit, this was just another reason humans were so infuriating. 

And then there was the question of what exactly _had_ happened at the banquet. In the aftermath of that chaotic night, Inuyasha had almost forgotten something major, something that had left him confused and cold. The voice that had spoken in his head before he entered the castle. 

_“You are safe here, Witcher.”_

It had been an ethereal voice. At first, he had assumed it was the mage. Now he wasn’t so sure.

“And you, Inuyasha?” Kagome asked, and he snapped out of his reverie.

“What?” Had he been staring at her or something? He’d been so wrapped up in his thoughts.

“Will you be joining us on our journey?” she asked, a small smile on her pink lips. Kind. Kinder than yesterday. The thing in his chest thudded uncomfortably. 

“I—”

“Of course he will!” interjected Miroku, his affect bright, almost too chipper for the circumstances. He clapped Inuyasha on the shoulder. “We both will. We simply cannot leave two such beautiful women on their own to be hunted by a whole army. To do so would be most un-gentleman-like.”

Sango raised her eyebrows. “Un-gentleman-like, huh?”

Kagome nodded in agreement. “He did try to grab my ass at the banquet.”

“He _what_?” both Inuyasha and Sango said simultaneously.

“Please, it was all a misunderstanding!” Miroku held his hands up and backed towards the door. Inuyasha felt the subtle urge to strangle his closest friend. “I’d had quite a bit of ale. Please allow me to make it up to you,” he said, looking at the girls, who both appeared unimpressed. 

“Only if the Witcher comes to keep you in check,” said Sango.

“Keh.” Something told him Sango could keep Miroku in check just fine on her own. “I’ll come along for now, if only to get this moron to pay me back for lost income.”

Miroku sputtered. Sango and Kagome smiled.

“Well, then. We’ll head north together,” said Kagome. 

* * *

Outside in the cool morning air, they packed up their various sacks with goods Jinenji’s mother had given them. She’d insisted that the items-- blankets, dried food, basic tools, extra clothing-- were just taking up space in her home gathering dust, but in Inuyasha’s opinion, she mostly just felt bad for the princess. He could see it in the mother’s eyes every time she glanced at Sango. There was compassion there that came from a place deeper than national loyalty. It was the kind of compassion only a mother could convey in one look.

“Here, dear,” she said, handing Sango a tiny vial with a small pink crystal inside. “Take this as well.”

“I can’t—”

“You certainly can!” insisted the old woman. “Your brother once gave this to me as payment for herbs. I have no use for it— it makes no difference to me— but I think you should have it.”

Sango stared at the small jewel. So did Kagome, but their expressions were vastly different. Sango stared at the jewel with a sadness and a fondness, and it was clear that she was remembering her brother. Kagome on the other hand became suddenly tense, her hands fisted, and she eyed the jewel with something like suspicion. 

“Very well,” said Sango. “Thank you.”

She placed the vial in her small knapsack. Kagome’s eyes tracked it as it disappeared into the cloth bag. Her eyes then snapped up to Inuyasha’s, sensing he was staring at her. Her lips pursed. 

Well, that probably wasn’t good.

“One more thing,” said Jinenji’s mother, jolting them out of their mutual gaze. “Jinenji!” she called, and the large half-Witcher came from behind the house with a small basket of greenery. Herbs, from the look of it.

“For you, Miss Kagome.” In his large hand it appeared almost miniature, but as soon as Kagome took it, one could tell it was a rather abundant supply of healing herbs and plants for spellcasting. Kagome took it with both hands, still a bit tense, but smiling as if she wasn’t. 

“This is so generous,” she said, her voice sincere. “Thank you.”

A blush crept onto Jinenji’s cheeks and he gave a small bow. “Thank you,” he said. “For your kindness.” He then looked over at Inuyasha as if he wanted to say something, but he simply nodded.

Inuyasha felt he understood, anyway.

After that, Kagome had decided to take the lead early on. While it had seemed like a good idea initially, they’d been walking now for what had been at least an hour in no discernable direction. The trees and rocks all started to look the same. At various times the sun had been North, West, and South of the direction they were walking. For all they knew they’d gone in a circle. 

“So it looks like we’re passing through the Erlenwald forest and then we will go through Dillingen before crossing the River Yaruga into Bajo Sodden,” Kagome said, holding up a map directly in front of her, arms outstretched, as if she’d never seen one before.

Apparently, Sango had the same question. “Uh- have you ever seen a map before?”

“Of course!” said Kagome, her cheeks flushing a bit. “Well, not a map this complicated, but cartography was never my strong suit, so we didn’t really focus on it. Kind of regretting that now.”

Inuyasha scoffed. “Fantastic. Let’s let the girl that failed geography guide us out of Cintra.”

“It was cartography, not geography, and I was a little busy learning other skills, thank you very much!” Kagome fired back over the top of her map. 

“All the same, maybe I should lead for a while?” Sango asked gently. “I’m a bit more familiar with the area, so it might be easier for me.”

Kagome sighed and dropped her arms, map falling with them. “Fine. But let me know if we’re coming up on any spiritual sites or potential areas of danger, just in case I need to get some herbs ready.”

“Of course,” said Sango, and she gently took the map from Kagome’s hands. “Thanks, Kagome.”

“If you’re wary of spiritual sites, Kagome, I can assure you most of the spirits here have been long pacified,” added Miroku. “It’s the monsters we should be concerned about in these parts. That and Nilfgaard.”

“What kind of monsters?” she asked. 

“Oh, Inuyasha and I have faced a few terrifying things in the forests near Cintra, haven’t we?”

He wasn’t wrong, exactly. “ _I’ve_ faced terrifying things. Don’t know how much you contributed.”

“You wound me, sir Witcher!” Miroku said, and with dramatic flair, he pressed the back of his hand to his forehead. “I fear I may never recover. Perhaps I should write a song about your betrayal.”

“Don’t.”

Miroku cleared his throat and sang in a solemn key, “Though I and my magic regret it, the Witcher took all of the credit/ We once fought together as one, but our daring duo is done!” He sighed. “What I wouldn’t give for my instrument back.”

Inuyasha scoffed.

“Doubt that would help.”

* * *

With Sango at the helm, and Miroku decidedly focused on her, Inuyasha found himself in step with the mage. Kagome from Vengerberg. He didn’t know much about the area-- only that it was far to the east, in Aedirn, land-locked and far from Cintra and Nilfgaard. He wondered why she had been placed where she was after leaving Aretuza, why they wanted her there in Cintra, and not closer to her own people. Aretuza usually placed mages in places where they were at least somewhat familiar with the terrain. Kagome had been placed literally on the other side of the map. Then again, Cintra had never had a mage before, and objectively the girl was quite agreeable. That, and her magic was… what was the word…

Unbelievable. 

He knew something was special about her when he first laid eyes on her, but it wasn’t until the attack on the castle that he realized how right he was. He’d never seen such a natural conduit. Most mages channeled chaos, but her magic was less chaos and more… possibilities. It was from a much lighter place. He wondered if that’s why her forcefield had been bright pink when she created it. 

“I can tell you want to ask something, Witcher.”

Kagome raised her eyebrows at him as he met her stare. They were only a few feet apart, but in the forest, it felt much closer. Their boots made imprints in the dampened forest earth as errant leaves occasionally drifted to the ground. 

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Is that your default?” she asked, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder. “Being defensive?”

He was going to retort something, something intelligent, but he grunted. Anything he said would prove her point.

“Anyway, there was something I wanted to say to you, actually.” She inhaled deeply as if preparing for a blow. “I wanted to say I’m really sorry about what I said at the banquet. Before the attack. What I said about Blaviken, I— I had no right, I was just repeating rumors. I don’t really know what happened there, and I shouldn’t have said anything. I was drinking and I… there’s really no excuse. I’m sorry. I just wanted to say that.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. 

She stopped a few feet ahead of him and turned to face him.

“I mean it, Inuyasha. I’m sorry. And I shouldn’t just call you Witcher— that’s not all you are, just like I’m not just a mage.”

He was transfixed by her. Under some sort of spell. He was sure his jaw was hanging open. Had she just _apologized_ to him? No one ever apologized to him, unless they thought he was about to attack them. He couldn’t remember a time in his life where someone had sincerely apologized for something they said to him, or something they called him. It was unthinkable. Unfathomable. He was a mutant, a Witcher. It simply wasn’t done.

Who was this girl?

“Inuyasha?” she asked softly.

“I— yeah. Thanks,” he answered, and resumed walking. Miroku and Sango were getting too far ahead of them now, and the afternoon was lurking in the arc of the sky. Kagome fell in step with him once again. They walked in silence for a few minutes before he found the words he wanted to say.

“Kagome,” he said, testing her name on his tongue for the first time without fire or irritation, “I did have a question.”

“Mmm?” 

How was he supposed to ask this without sounding crazy? Or without putting his foot in his mouth?

“Did you… did you know I was coming to the banquet?” He supposed he would start there.

“No,” she said, shifting her sack onto her shoulders more securely. “I’dnever even heard of you before that night. Sango was surprised you were there, actually. Why were you there?” she asked.

“Coin. The bard promised me coin if I defended him from his ex lovers.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I really wish I was,” he said, and she laughed. It was a small laugh, but it was genuine. _She_ was genuine.

And beautiful. Her leggings wrapped tightly around slim but strong calves and thighs. Her tunic was somewhat formless, but the sweat of trudging through the forest had made the fabric cling to her torso in much more appealing ways. Fuck, she was amazing. He better stop himself.

Still, he had to know more.

“So you didn’t know I would be there… did you place any protections on the castle? Or did anyone else?”

Kagome shot him a puzzled look and grabbed the shoulder straps of her sack. The weight was clearly starting to bother her.

“No, I didn’t. In retrospect I should have but I thought… well, none of us expected…”

Shit, he hadn’t meant to criticize her. “It’s not that,” he said. He didn’t want her to feel bad, but he wasn’t sure how much he could trust her yet. He didn’t trust people in general, especially beautiful, powerful, kind and beguiling mages that smelled like lilac and gooseberries. He couldn’t tell her about the voice, not yet. Sounded like she didn’t know anything about it anyway. “I just felt something around the castle. It was probably nothing.”

She nodded slowly. “Right. Nothing.” She shifted the sack on her shoulders again and rubbed her neck. He remembered she’d stuffed it with food and linens and all sorts of things Jinenji’s mother had given her for magic spells. For him it would have weighed nothing, but for a human of even moderate strength, it would have been difficult to carry for hours on end. 

Enough was enough.

“Give me the sack,” he said abruptly. 

She frowned. “I’m fine, it’s not that heavy.”

“Kagome.”

“I’m _fine_ , it’s nothing. I can carry it myself.”

“Goddamit, wench, let someone help you for once,” he said, exasperated. When she ignored him, he stopped altogether and crossed his arms.

“Fine. Either I carry that, or I carry you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”

He narrowed them right back. “Try me.”

They stared at each other intensely for what couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, but it felt infinitely longer. He almost lost himself swimming in those bright blue irises. Then, after a few tense moments, she sighed and slipped the sack off of her shoulders, wincing a little as it fell onto her forearm. She held it out for him and he picked it up with ease.

They started to walk again, speeding up their pace to catch up to the princess and the bard. 

“Thank you,” she murmured after a while. He caught the hint of a smile on her lips.

* * *

* * *

Blood laced red patterns on her porcelain skin as it dripped down from her hands onto the ground in front of him. Her equally red lips were in a small smile. She knew she had done well. Her robes were equally drenched at the sleeves, dark red in contrast to the bright pink.

“My Lord,” she said, wiping at the sweat on her brow and leaving a red smear on her forehead. “The rest of the Cintran sympathizers have been disposed of.”

“Well done, Kagura,” replied a low, sinister voice. He was hidden from view, cloaked in the dark, embraced by it. One could almost hear him sneer as he asked “And the rest of Cintran royalty?”

“All dead, spare a few that escaped with the Princess. She has not been found yet, but we’ve found a trail that may be of some use. Regardless, she is wounded; she should not cause us any trouble in our expansion.”

“The Princess is nothing. Her kingdom belongs to Nilfgaard and the White Light now. What of the mage?”

Kagura blinked.

“The mage?”

“Did I stutter?” the man raised his voice, “The Cintran mage, the first of her kind?”

A pale figure appeared behind Kagura, grasping a large oval mirror. She appeared to be only a child, and spoke in a child’s voice, but no enemy dared treat her as such. Kanna was the stronger of the two Nilfgaardian mages. “She was strong. She escaped with the Princess, the bard, and the Witcher.”

“The Witcher?”

“He was a real pain in the ass,” said Kagura, frowning at her partner. “Sesshomaru’s brother.”

“You say Inuyasha of Rivia was there?” the man asked quietly.

“Yes,” said Kanna. “He was strong as well.”

He chuckled. “Well, then, this may all work out to our  advantage. Perhaps we should send them a welcoming party in the Erlenwald Forest. After all, they’ll be tired after their journey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next:
> 
> “I’m done moping. I’m going to gather the banners of our allies and we are going to march on Nilfgaard. And if no one will join me, I will find Naraku myself and rip his heart from his chest.”
> 
> “Sango, you can’t," Kagome said. "You’re still healing, first of all, and to single-handedly take him on would be impossible.”
> 
> Sango chuckled darkly. “Many people have told me I can’t do the impossible. Mostly men. They say I am too weak, too kind-hearted, too inferior; that I was born to be submissive and demure. But I defy the impossible every day. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t still be alive.”
> 
> Kagome was silent for a moment. “Well if you give a speech like that, I don’t think you’ll be fighting alone."


	6. In A Spiral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIIIIIIIVE.
> 
> Sorry to keep everyone waiting for this one. Hoping to be a bit speedier with the next one.  
> Today's chapter brought to you by fried rice, crystal light, and the urge to procrastinate.

They’d been walking for days, and finally, _finally_ , they’d found a stream to bathe in. 

She was so dirty, she felt like a shrieking striga after walking through a swamp. She felt filth everywhere; the sweat caked to her brow, the dust and ash that had collected on her hair during the fire. They’d been fortunate enough to change clothes, but that only did so much. Her hands, though she had wiped them off on her old clothes, still felt like they had blood on them, like phantom gloves left by the life of the queen. That whole night continued to haunt her, along with everything else that had happened since she’d arrived at Cintra. The dreams, the strange sensations, the sight of— could it be?— the jewel that was the key to everything. Or at least, that’s what Kaede had said. 

_“What do you know of the Shikon Jewel?”_ Kaede had once asked her. Kagome knew nothing— she’d never heard of it. Her master described the jewel in detail: a pink, pearlescent, almost prismatic jewel, about the size of a small stone that could fit in one’s hand. Kaede had then told her that it was very important, a key to her past, her present, even her future. And whoever ruled said jewel, Kaede said, would rule over everything. 

_“Its power knows no limits, when held in the right hands.”_ Kaede had given her a serious look. _“Which is why, if you find it, you must protect it at all costs. In the wrong hands, the jewel’s power could spell disaster.”_

_“For who, a monarch?”_ Kagome had asked.

_“More than a monarch, girl. Try a kingdom. Try the Continent.”_

So when she saw the jewel shard, held by Jinenji’s mother in an unassuming dirty glass vial, she lost her head for a second. Because how could something so important, so powerful, end up there? On a remote farm in the middle of Cintran territory? It didn’t make any sense. And for that matter, wasn’t the jewel supposed to be a round stone shape, not some jagged crystal? Had Kaede been wrong, or had it, at some point, shattered? Maybe it wasn’t the jewel at all, just some beautiful royal heirloom, but then why did she feel so drawn to it? She desperately wanted to examine it, to sneak the vial from the Princess’s bag and carry it herself, but doing so without magic was impossible. Doing so with magic was likely to get her caught, and above all, it was dishonest. She couldn’t break Sango’s trust, not now. Not when the princess had so little left in her life to trust. 

She mulled these thoughts over as she and Sango bathed in the wide stream. It was still summer, and Cintra was a southern territory, so the waters were still relatively warm, even in the late afternoon. The two of them had shed their clothes on the grassy banks and washed off the caked blood, sweat and dirt, dunking their heads under the water to rinse out their long hair. Kagome found she couldn’t stay under for more than a few seconds.

It reminded her too much of her nightmares.

Afterwards, she set herself the task of examining Sango’s back. A nasty scar had developed that, no matter how hard she tried, Kagome could not get rid of. She’d always been fairly adept at healing. The challenge was unexpectedly frustrating.

“I just don’t understand,” said Kagome, her hands between the girl’s shoulder blades, pressing gently on the tender skin. “Do you feel anything?”

“I feel a warmth,” said Sango. “Like I did when you first healed me.”

“Hmm,” said Kagome. “I don’t get it. No matter what I try I can’t seem to blend the skin in with its surroundings.”

“It’s fine, just cosmetic, is all,” she said, then she dropped her voice low and soft. “Or maybe it’s a different kind of wound. Maybe it’s cursed.”

Now _that_ Kagome had not thought of. She’d figured since the gash had been made with human weapons, by a human, that it would act like a normal wound. But this wound was like a splatter of blood across the princess’s back-- stretching from her left shoulder down to the right side of her waist. Not only was it large, but it was dark purple, and it had been a bitch to close in the first place. Kagome sighed. 

“I suppose it could be. The magic I encountered at the castle was unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.”  
“Nilfgaard’s been bragging about it for a few years now. They call it the White Flame,” Sango seethed, her voice still quiet, but rising in volume. “It’s this god, or thing they worship. They’re able to use unspeakable forms of magic, the kinds that aren’t taught in civilized society. My mother was really worried about it, but I always thought it was a rumor until... well…”

She trailed off. Kagome could only guess what she was imagining, but she suspected it was familiar to one of the scenes that continued to haunt her as well. 

Trying to protect the Queen, Kagome could only catch glimpses from afar of the possessed prince Kohaku as he viciously attacked his sister. His sickle soared through the air, catching itself on Sango’s arms, legs, then finally her back. Kagome remembered feeling helpless as the Queen screamed for her to protect her children. Feeling like she had to make an impossible choice. That was, at least, until the bard had arrived with unexpected magic. She had been sure that Sango was done for, lying in a pool of her own blood on the stone floors of the banquet hall, her brother raising his sickle for one final strike, when out of nowhere, Miroku threw himself in front of her, erecting a barrier that was just barely able to stave off the boy’s attacks. She wondered how much Sango remembered of that.

“I can’t,” Kagome started, then paused to breathe and chose her words carefully. Her heart felt strangely caught in her throat. “I can’t imagine what you must be going through right now. I know it’s not much, but I want you to know I’m here for you. It’s the least I can do, given that I couldn’t protect them.”

Sango did not speak for a moment. She stayed with her back to Kagome’s warm, glowing hands. “I don’t blame you, Kagome. Cintra survived for a long time without a mage; the only reason we requested one was because of rumors from Nilfgaard, as a precaution. No one thought it would actually happen, let alone that it would be so soon. We thought we’d have time to prepare, and we thought we’d be fighting armies, not whatever that was.”

Kagome felt she could finally breathe after Sango’s forgiveness. “Still, I promised to protect Cintra. You are all that they have left. It might do you some good to pause for a moment, to rest while we figure out where to go from here. As soon as we get into Dillingen—”

“No,” said Sango, firmly, her voice growing louder and more confident with each word. “I’m done resting. The enemy did not escape unscathed— the sooner we attack, the less time they have to prepare. I’m going to gather the banners of our allies and we are going to march on Nilfgaard as one. And if no one will join me, I will find Nilfgaard and this White Light, god or man, and rip his heart from his fucking chest with my bare hands.”

“Sango, you can’t,” Kagome responded. “You’re still healing, first of all, and to single-handedly take them on right now, especially alone, would be impossible.”

The princess chuckled darkly. “Many people have told me I can’t do the impossible. Mostly men. They say I am too weak, too kind-hearted, too inferior; that I was born to be submissive and demure. But they all learned their lesson. I’ve defied the impossible every day of my life. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t still be alive.”

Kagome was silent for a moment. She did not think princesses spoke this way; with such passion, fervor, strength and defiance. She liked it. 

“Well if you give speeches like that, I don’t think you’ll be fighting alone. Besides, like I said, you’ll have me.”

She couldn’t see her face, but Kagome thought Sango was smiling, at least a little. She hoped so, anyway. Then, without warning, Sango’s shoulders tensed and she cocked her head, clearly alert to something Kagome could not sense. Quickly she sank into the water, everything completely submerged up to her neck, and turned toward the tree line behind them with a murderous expression.

“And while I’m thinking of it, I know exactly what I’m going to do. It’s what I do to all those that offend me. I’m going to eviscerate him from head to toe and string his entrails atop the Cintran flag,” she said, voice much louder than before. Then she cupped her mouth with both hands, yelling: “And I’m going to start with you two perverts!” 

Kagome looked over her shoulder. A rustling of branches and muffled curses were the only signs that alerted her to what Sango was talking about. The boys. Her arms crossed over her chest and she squeaked with indignation as she sank down into the water.

“You better run, assholes!” yelled Sango, looking murderous, “Before I find you and dismember you!”

Kagome grimaced. “Sango, we need them. Well, we don’t _need_ them, but they could prove useful.”

The princess simmered in the water, sunk down to just below her nose, her frustration rippling in the water with each breath. After a moment, when it seemed the boys had run, she stood back up, a bit of a smirk gracing her lips. 

“Well. I’ll give them a head start anyway.”

___

The rest of the afternoon back at camp was painfully awkward at best. 

Sango and Kagome had returned about half an hour later, and while Miroku attempted to sputter a number of half-eloquent apologies, Inuyasha just kept repeating himself over and over again, saying “I was trying to stop him! Seriously! I was trying to stop him!” 

Sango didn’t buy it, and proceeded to give them the silent treatment. 

After fifteen minutes Kagome couldn’t stand the silence anymore. They had to reconcile so they could keep going, or at least, decide which way they wanted to go. She looked over at the boys— Miroku was picking at grass and attempting to sneak glances at Sango unnoticed; Inuyasha was lying on the ground again, hands behind his head, looking up at the sky. This seemed to be something he did quite often. She wondered what he was thinking about. What could occupy a man of action’s thoughts for so long? His position enhanced the musculature of his arms so that they could be seen, bulging, even beneath the black cloth sleeves. 

He had threatened to pick her up with those arms. Why had she not let him, again?

_Because you didn’t need his help,_ she reminded herself.

But, just maybe, she wanted his help. 

And they’d even had a conversation before, which was… different. She hadn’t pegged him for the ‘conversation’ type. And they’d barely talked since, but she caught him once or twice, watching her through narrowed eyes, as if she were a puzzle he was determined to solve. 

Well, he’d have to find her missing pieces first. Which reminded her— it had been too long since she had practiced her meditations to access her memories. Kaede would be disappointed. 

_“There’s chaos in your past, girl. If you cannot learn to channel it, it may be more than Cintra that pays the price.”_

Kagome ground her teeth. Goddammit, Kaede had been right. 

If Kagome didn’t step up, how much of a chance did Sango really stand to unite the banners and defeat Nilfgaard? Sango was a force to be reckoned with, certainly, but some people, usually men, had to be convinced to cooperate with others. Sango would need a friend to have her back if someone tried to betray her. That friend would need to have power, too. Enough to back up Sango’s powerful words with action.

_“But remember, power can be a curse if used wrongly.”_

_“Then how?”_

_“For people, Kagome. To protect people. That’s all it’s good for.”_

Her father had been right. This was her calling, exactly what she was made for. What her purpose was in life. So why did she feel like something was off? Like it was a hollow goal, and empty promise? All of these dreams and visions, all of this chaos, weren’t they supposed to bring her clarity? Then why was it that the more she thought about it, the more confused she became? She could feel herself spiraling in a sea of pink water, as if pulled below the surface by a drain, ready to suck her into a whirlpool of her own making, when—

“Oi.”

She blinked. She looked up, only to find Inuyasha staring at her with that same, discerning look on his face. He was sitting up now, legs crossed, arms folded over them. Hunched over, leaning towards her. A few pieces of grass were stuck in his hair. 

“What?” she said.

“You looked…” he stopped, as if unable to find the words. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” she said, hoping that she cut off whatever he was about to say. She didn’t want to know what she looked like when she was caught in a spiral. She was pretty sure it was a mix of upset and frightened, but she didn’t want to hear it from him. She glanced over at Miroku, and then Sango, who were also now staring at her.

“So… Inuyasha, Miroku, why don’t you two try and find some food to go with what’s left of our supplies?” Kagome offered, hoping the change in subject would divert everyone’s attention, especially since it was starting to feel like they weren’t going anywhere for the rest of the day. They were all still giving each other the silent treatment, it appeared; maybe this olive branch would at least allow the group to communicate again. About something other than herself, preferably. Miroku glanced once more at Sango, who was pointedly still ignoring him, sighed, and walked into the fading light of the sunset towards the woods. Inuyasha followed not long after, shoving his hands in his pockets, muttering what were no doubt curses under his breath. Before he was out of view behind the treeline, he glanced back at her once more. 

Was that… concern?

No, she was kidding herself. Besides, she didn’t really need concern. She was fine. She would be fine, they all would be. All she needed to do was meditate, get ahold of herself, ramp up her power, help Sango, figure out what Nilfgaard wanted and how to defeat them, and destroy an enemy that had used magic she had never seen before. 

Easy. No sweat. 

“Hey, Sango?” she said, her voice shaky. “I don’t want to leave you alone, but I’ve got to practice my magic, or I’m going to get rusty. Do you think you’d feel safe if it was just you and Kirara for a bit? I won’t be gone long, and the boys should be back soon.”

Sango gave her a small smile and pet the small cat next to her. “Of course. To be honest, I could use some time alone.”

Kagome could definitely relate. 

“Thanks. I’ll be at the stream where we were earlier, if you need to find me.”

“Sure,” Sango said. “And Kagome?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” Sango said. 

She didn’t say what for. She didn’t have to. 

\---

_Breathe. Focus on your breathing._

_In. slowly. Out. slower._

She focused on her senses. The feeling of the firm ground under her folded legs. The trickling sound of running water and the smell of damp earth. Summer grasses waving in the night air. The call and response of crickets and all manner of small creatures in the trees. The half moon she knew was smiling down at her, having shot up from the horizon and into the sky. The cloth on her legs and arms, dry but still warm, the boots on her feet. The taste of something-- something she couldn’t place on her tongue.

She followed it.

That taste in her mouth, something sharp, a bit like iron, on her teeth and the back of her throat. 

The next thing she knew, she was no longer on a grassy river bank. She was fighting for her life. 

—-

Dust hung in the air, kicked up by constantly shifting and pivoting feet. Her heart raced as she lifted her sword up to defend herself. Sparks showered when the attacker’s blade met her dagger. The sound of steel against steel. She couldn’t see him very well, with the thickness of the hot air, but she knew he was there, and she had to be rid of him. She had to show him she was _serious_.

_He must not be allowed to know of the jewel’s existence,_ she thought, scenery swirling as she went on the offensive. _I have to protect it. No matter the cost._

_“You don’t have to do this!”_ said the voice of her attacker. He sounded desperate, strained. His breathing was heavy.

_“You made your choice,”_ she spat, her once tender words now filled with hate. _“Now I am making mine!”_

_“Please,”_ the man said, _“If we do this. If I start—”_

_“- then I won’t be able to stop!” s_ he screamed, thrusting her dagger forward. Long threads of black hair momentarily obscured her vision, but the wind shifted, and she was able to see the man in front of her. The man she had to destroy. The steel of his long blade was at a cross with hers. She knew the sword could grow, that it was at its weakest, but it still held her blade fast at a stop.

His clothes were black, ragged, and stained with the blackened blood of other creatures in various stages of aging. His skin was rough and dusty, his knuckles blistered and nails caked in dirt. His white hair, matted with sweat and blood were plastered across his face, framing tear-rimmed, golden eyes. A Witcher’s eyes.

_“Kikyo,”_ he whispered. _“Please.”_

He wanted her to stop. She felt the urge to stop, to rush to him, to be caught in his arms kiss him and tell him it would be alright. But deep down, they both knew this would only end one way. They were two of a kind; stubborn, righteous, angry. This was a battle to the death. 

Kikyo was ready and eager to kill him. But Kagome, her mind suddenly aware of its own presence, recognized this man, and she would not, could not kill him.

He was the spitting image of the Witcher Inuyasha. 

She felt dueling urges swirl within her: one to stop him by any means necessary, another to drop her sword and fall to her knees in submission. She didn’t understand— why couldn’t he know about the jewel? What did it have to do with a Witcher? His expression was so pained, tortured, his eyebrows furrowed with incredulous confusion. 

_“I don’t understand,”_ , he growled, _“just tell me what’s going on Kikyo!”_

She felt the threads of the memory, or the dream, whatever it was, slip from the tethers of her mind. The scenery in the background faded first, followed by the buildings of the small rustic town, followed by the ground underneath her feet. Then Inuyasha, staring at her bewildered in the void, vanished from sight. Everything faded away but her body, or, the body of whoever ‘Kikyo’ was. The rusted blade she was wielding fell from her hand and into the blackness of the abyss, not making a sound. She held her hands up to her face, palms facing inward, then flipping outward. She was afraid to see blood again, as she had before the banquet, but these hands were clean. There was another problem now. The hands may have been clean, but they definitely weren’t hers.

So who was she? Was she Kagome? Was she this Kikyo person? How could she feel like one whole person, yet also feel that this was not her body, and that multiple trains of thought were running through her head? If this wasn’t her, then what was this exactly? It couldn’t be a memory, could it? Could it be a premonition? But that didn’t make sense either. 

All around her was void. Her heart began to beat at a faster pace, picking up speed with every second that passed without change. Her head was pounding. Where was she? Was she trapped? Was she stuck here, in the darkness, forever? Had she gone too far?

And who exactly was she?

_“Kagome…”_ a feminine voice said in a sing-song tone. She didn’t recognize the voice, but it was oddly calming. Strangely comforting.

_“Kagome!”_ again, but more urgent.

“Yes,” she said, finally able to speak in her own voice, “I’m here, I—”

“Kagome!”— a male voice, desperate—

She was ripped from her void and dropped back into her present body, sitting once again on the grassy bank by the stream. But she was no longer alone. 

—-

“Hey, hey Kagome. Kagome!” she felt her shoulder being grabbed by large, rough hands, shaken back and forth as if to rouse her from a long sleep. She blinked, eyes bleary until her vision focused. Beautiful golden eyes set in against shadowed skin. Long, white hair glowing in the moonlight. The familiar scent of pine and sweat.

Oh god. She knew why she recognized Inuyasha now. Somehow, from someone else’s memories— this Kikyo person—she knew who he was. She somehow had something of a window into the events of this Kikyo woman’s past— no, more than a window— it was as if she could inhabit it. 

“Wh-what?” she said, scooting back, as she woke from her reverie. 

He frowned at her. “You were— we were shouting at you for minutes.” She saw behind him the concerned faces of Sango and Miroku on Inuyasha’s left and right respectively. Kagome could not find the right words to speak.

“It was frightening,” murmured Sango. “You appeared as if you were under some sort of spell. Your eyes were open, but they didn’t see anything.” Miroku was staring at her, too, frowning out of what she assumed was concern. 

Inuyasha still knelt in front of her, eyes narrowed. “The fuck _was_ that?”

Finally, she found her voice. “It was nothing,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “Just meditating, that’s all.”

“That looked like more than meditating,” Miroku responded, concern still emanating from him. Like he knew there was more to it.

“I’m sorry if I worried everyone.”

“Yeah, well, next time maybe don’t run off by yourself like a fucking moron.”

She rolled her eyes and pushed herself up off the ground. “I’m not a ‘fucking moron’, I was practicing my magic.”

“Practicing your magic? Then why weren’t you doing spells and shit?”

“Oh, so _now_ you know the intricacies of magic, do you?”

“Here we go again,” muttered Sango.

“And to think our evening had been so pleasant, before,” replied Miroku. 

“I wouldn’t call staring at my ass a ‘pleasant’ evening, I’d call it grounds for a day in the castle jail for objectifying a royal.”

“I assume you’ll be the one chaining me, then?”

“Ugh, _stop_ , it’s fine, guys,” Kagome huffed. “Sorry for making you all worry.” And that’s what she had done, wasn’t it? Worry them. It’d been so long since anyone had reason to worry for her at all— of course, excluding her mother and brother, who were certainly worrying about her daily— that she almost hadn’t recognized it for what it was. The beginning of friendship.

“Keh, I wasn’t worried,” said the Witcher, casting an imposing figure in the moonlight. He sighed and adjusted his belt before pausing awkwardly, mid-twist. In his silhouette Kagome could see his face tense, a deep frown set in his eyebrows. His entire body went as rigid as stone.

“Fuck.”

To Kagome and Sango, this was a strange utterance given his previous statement. But to Miroku, it was a warning. The bard steeled himself, bending his knees slightly widening his stance. 

“Where, Inuyasha?”

“North, northeast. Fast,” he said, drawing out his sword which, as it had in the castle, grew to an immense size once drawn. He cursed under his breath. “Really fucking fast.”

“What’s going on?” Kagome asked. She reached out with her magic, seeking the possibilities in the earth beneath her, but found nothing. She felt her way through the trees, the air, then she found it— a single point of faint light traveling at insane speed in their direction.

“Monster, isn’t it?” Sango said, mimicking Miroku’s stance almost instantly. Kirara, who had been perched on her shoulder, leapt off and in a blaze transformed into a large predatory cat with fangs as large as Kagome’s hands. 

“Yeah, and from the size of it,” he paused, deepening his stance, “might be a fiend.”

Sango gave a quick inhale while Miroku cursed. 

“A fiend?” Kagome asked. In Aretuza, she had only heard tales about fiends; usually whispers in the halls as mages shared tales of slain knights on the search for glory, or poor townspeople lost in the woods. They were lightning fast, massive beasts, the size of a cabin, with haunches like a wild dog and the upper torso of a giant bear. Their striped bodies were spotted with tufts of unruly brown hair, and atop their heads sat tangles of antlers, each one deadly enough to impale. But that was not the worst the beast had to offer— in the center of each fiend’s head lay a third eye, through which it was able to command a blinding spell. Much like a mage used their hands, this creature used its eye to send it’s enemy into visual darkness. Something didn’t make sense, though.

“I thought fiends didn’t attack people unless provoked”, she said, pushing herself off of the ground. “Why would it be running this way?”

“It’s running at us, or running from somethin’ else,” Inuyasha said, his stance deepening. “Either way, it’s gonna be a fucking fight.” 

“If a fight is what it wants, then that’s what we’ll give it,” said Sango, stepping back as if steadying herself. 

Miroku seemed to have other ideas, laying a hand on the princess’s arm, only to retract it when Sango jerked away. “Princess, best let Inuyasha take care of this. It’s what he does best.”

“Damn straight.”

“I still know how to fight!”

“You lost your weapon, Sango. It would be more difficult if you chose to fight; Inuyasha would have to worry about protecting you,” said Miroku, not unkindly. 

Miroku had a point. Fiends were nothing to be trifled with, and between the four of them, Inuyasha was certainly the one with the most experience fighting them. Still, knowing what she knew, that there was a magical component to this monster, it might be better for the two of them to take it out together. 

That, and the thought of watching Inuyasha fight alone sat strangely in her stomach. She did not like it. For some reason.   
“Sango, stay back with the bard,” Kagome said. “We will take care of this.”

Inuyasha’s head whipped back at her, his sword still held aloft and towards the approaching monster. “We?”

“Yes, we,” said Kagome, glaring without any heat. She drew up her hands and between them summoned a pinpoint of pink light as if to add to her point. “This thing uses magic, too, right? If it blinds you, you’re out of luck.”

He snorted. “I can easily throw up a _sign_ , Kagome. I’m a Witcher, not some goddamn knight.”

“Two is better than one. I can focus on the magic while you can fight the thing.”

“I don’t need your fucking help! I—”

A blood-curdling roar boomed from just behind the treeline. Inuyasha turned back around and growled in frustration.

“Fine! Miroku, guard the Princess. Kagome, focus on the third eye, but if this goes south, stay the fuck out of the way!” Inuyasha said. From behind him, she could see his back muscles tense as his hair whipped in the wind created by the impending velocity of the monstrous beast. Before she could give it another thought, the monster was there.

There, in the clearing with its massive body, and its massive deadly set of antlers. Greenery whipped around it as it came to a halt, surveying the area of the stream, and then finally, of the four small beings to its right. Its pale body painted with jagged black stripes was an odd juxtaposition against the random patches of fur attached to its hide. Its teeth, though sharp and dripping drool, weren’t what caught her eye, though. It was that third eye, dead center in its forehead, radiating an odd sort of magical energy. It was tainted, but it was familiar. She had felt this type of magic before.

That night in the Cintran castle.

Well, shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next:  
>  "Sango watched the bard carefully as she passed, making sure there was a nice distance between them before turning around and leading them into the woods. Inuyasha gave Miroku a look of exasperation.  
> “I know why you did that, bard.”  
> “I have no idea what you mean.”  
> Inuyasha rolled his eyes. If Miroku wanted to stare at her ass on the way to the stream, then that was his business. He wasn’t in a place to judge considering what had been filling his thoughts since the afternoon."


End file.
